MiltonSatyr
06-07-2022, 04:12 PM
Do we sleep on soft sands that hold
Our heads with creases of dark dreams?
The night sky sliding through star beams.
Should we shape driftwood of distress untold?
Two people pressing imprints in the sand,
The wash of turf bursting wide and clean,
Grit and dead shells span the shore and sea.
Watching you dream in cold drifts so damp.
You said the dark wall above water and shore
Stares back when we press up against the edge;
When it whispers words we wish we never said,
Shadows of waves often take on other forms.
What I recall, now, from when I woke up
This morning, was the sun like a lemon to an ant.
The salt air stung my eyes open to what I can’t
See without closing the lids of them shut.
Waves race and crash in lapping ebb and flow
And winds scrape our skin as we sit here and blink
To a vastness above in blue mass that clouds bring
With shapes and forms that could be never told.
Our heads with creases of dark dreams?
The night sky sliding through star beams.
Should we shape driftwood of distress untold?
Two people pressing imprints in the sand,
The wash of turf bursting wide and clean,
Grit and dead shells span the shore and sea.
Watching you dream in cold drifts so damp.
You said the dark wall above water and shore
Stares back when we press up against the edge;
When it whispers words we wish we never said,
Shadows of waves often take on other forms.
What I recall, now, from when I woke up
This morning, was the sun like a lemon to an ant.
The salt air stung my eyes open to what I can’t
See without closing the lids of them shut.
Waves race and crash in lapping ebb and flow
And winds scrape our skin as we sit here and blink
To a vastness above in blue mass that clouds bring
With shapes and forms that could be never told.