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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