POETRY ON MEDIUM

Who is She?

Sail under the departing moon, horizon caressing the fading night She is grief, a dream, a crinkle of morning light. In the land of eternal clouds, in the shade of a grimacing grin She rows across the oceans, to see one last sight of rain. They will be up soon, say the seagulls on Lone Island None is chosen none is deserted, if born on land … must lay on this sand. Don’t be sad my dearest child, dream all you wish For once, a dream is now held beneath your wrist. She stands against the horizon, a final song left to sing But no one breathing to hear and pass it along. Still, she tells her story to the veiling sun and hovering night The breeze above the water escorted every word until the last beam of light.

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