Sunday, September 15, 2019

Blue Skies (Day 970)

Still   he can hear her breath 
at night   in his heart   meets her 
in his dreams    rambling along 
clifftop paths   sandals in hand   
bare feet brown on the dusty road 

wandering aimlessly   sunflower 
face slanted toward golden light   
sometimes whistling or humming 
songs that   once upon a time
had enthralled her grandparents

Blue skies
Smiling at me
Nothing but blue skies
Do I see

a curve of beach spread out below   
like a picnic   gray sand smooth 
as ice   pale and dry   unmarred 
by tourists’ trash and trampling   
eternal   pristine   still   he can see 

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: KingofHearts  (CC BY-SA 4.0)

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