Out on the beach tonight we had a row.
Morose, I sulked, wrote wishes in the sand
long after you had left to think. And how
I missed you. Would the salt waves understand?
I skimmed ten round, flat stones far out to sea.
An even number of bounces said you cared.
I squinted each and every skip for me.
Six odd, four even, I was panic-scared.
I skimmed until the figures came together,
and then I cast my last smooth skimming stone,
closed my eyes against the count. Whichever,
odd or even, blind, I'll never know.
    But coming home, through a cool Aegean dawn,
    I revelled in your love, enjoyed your laughing scorn.

John Bevan