She swam in a salt dress of silver, |
naked as a kept truth. |
I adored her from the dune |
watching from times death |
my time of life, |
contemplating love |
and how it feels to hollow shells |
once it fills the void. |
|
She surfaced from a shelf wave |
dropping diamonds from her hair, |
holding a shell which she pressed on my palm |
saying: "Princess Seahorse, you once enjoyed a stroking naked truth like this, and afterwards a raptured, loosened calm." |
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All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Bonnie Brooke.
Published on e-Stories.org on 11/29/2006.
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