This woolgathering second
of tranquil chaos,
draws cashmere clouds -
billowing synchronically
with wallowing waves.
She wraps her dreams in paper boats,
and mirrors nostalgia
through her eyes.
It's the moment
when horizons hum a hymn
of distant hurricanes (in love)
as the pier echoes moans
of four flirting feet.
But ardor grows into isolation
as she squints scrutinizingly
the floating flocks of foam.
Her paper boat pictures
drown in the first wafting wave;
She sighs...
then puts her memories asleep.
Adding your comment:
You truly have a most unique way with words hun. I adore this piece and I envy your talent. You have complied with all the strictions I laid before you and you have done so with what appears to be little to know effort. Bravo!
