Look at this metal platter
My head is served up on it
Eyes blinded by the sun
The consummate reflection
Of so many skies
When you were wondering,
Are these real?
They are, and you were swimming,
And I was under water unafraid
Water and me were one
The grains between my fingers
So well matched they traced
The lines as well as any
Gypsy-foreteller, but alack,
Left whisperings of fate to
Curl up on the wind
To this seashore medley.
|
Submission Name: Seahorse
