You were brought,
By Cliodna’s empathy,
Webbed fingers and toes,
Searching for sealskin,
And a mother’s song,
Seven years gone.
The Midsummer moon,
Sprinkled shoreline tears,
As I,
Envisioned your dance,
In waves’ crescendo.
Betrayed by splashes,
And sea glass reflection,
You were,
Fair skin, corkscrew hair,
Fingers free of imperfection,
Releasing,
Impulsive lips,
Burning,
Abandonment’s wreckage.
© Bryan C. Miles. All Rights Reserved.