A Day's Failure

I wonder what would happen if mountains met sea
I guess they already do.
The waves would crash against rocks deafeningly,
bringing down relics of a once stormy past,
and wash the crooked edges of the rugged life.
Yes, I do know all this.
The salty sea foam would spit sand.
The sand collected from the beach
where people lay, sunbathing and talking.
Where little kids built sandcastles
and mothers watched out for their little ones.
Where a young boy once lost his life,
when he was swimming towards his sailing hat.
The hat sailed towards the jagged edges of the mountains
and tore at the brim.
The linen came rippling apart, thread by thread.
The satin ribbon that was wound around the body,
flew into the air, unwound.
Like a white dove in the midst of war.
And at last, the little red rose bud
that clung onto the ribbon,
fluttered down,
battered by the day's failure at love,
and floated away.