Tentacled limbs clutching
sweat swollen pillows,
a restless churning
of buttery goodbyes.
Hollow is the echo
in relic chambers;
vellum turned parchment
into cackling sighs.
A tawny drop falling,
spotty reminder
of what will be missed...
crimson salt tides (no more).
The mermaid sings softly
from milk foaming waters-
a hymn in her heart
from a far reaching shore.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
A hymn to hum here. Tides do not last forever. They come, and they go.
ReplyDeletePS: Do visit my spot sometime. Would like to know your thoughts on my last two posts. I sent you an e-mail notification about them. Let me know if you cannot access my blog.
But what remains true between is beautiful nonetheless!
ReplyDeleteI have opted and would love to follow your blog Opaque, but I don't seem to be able to access it.
Thank you Gerry. AP by TS 4U. XOXO
ReplyDelete