Crumbling to sand

Stone. Sandstone. Sand.
Ruby, bronze, gold, silver,
the motherlode, the matrix.
Precious, this handful of clay.
Rainwater and sea water polish
rough edges, seep into clefts
and fissures, simplify a hillside 
into sand. I stand here with 
a camera, loving you and the moment 
of silence between us. Quick now, here, 
now. One touch before we crumble.