Ocean winds drape your isle,
I can see you dreaming,
but when you wake
and find the world has gone
will you remember me
as I was upon the horizion?

Turquoise waves sweep the shore,
I can see you singing
and when you play
your magic instruments
will you remember those
who sculpted the mountains?

It all seems so familiar.
You have a place to return to
but you've never been there before.

Summer tryst to bygone days,
I can see you laughing.
So when you gaze
upon the vast water-scape
will you find a stretch of land
and make of it a home?

Teal equinox drifting over the valley
tangled in a crystal chain of stars.

Ghosts of the universe spiral endlessly.
Mind in a shell of illusions we’ve made;
iron, earth, and air.

Dawn’s haloed sky stretches over the mountain locked in a veil of silver fog.

Jewels of infinity cradled in our hands.
Knots of wind come unraveled by the night;
salt, sun, and gold.

Gazing out your cerulean diamonds
past the rippled shore
toward the sunrise bursting on the horizon
and you swear you’ve never felt this before.

A wave-caressed *******,
where sea-winds lift the wailing gulls,
and you’re dancing to the calypso
flooded with ardor
and answering the call 
for voyage on the water.

Another day and the helm is turning.
In the midnight trance, your sails are drawn.
The crew say these clouds are blurring
your painted vessel of this summer's dawn.

The mast is towering in the salty air
and the sun is showering your seaward stare.

Cedars on the ice-blue horizon,
lonely hills shrouded in hawthorne groves
curling over the mantle of snowy white.
Tones of a breeze brush through the trees,
like adagio for wintry symphonies.

Echoes of a river
sweep along the secluded forest of gray.
Scarlet clouds streak through the sky
in twilight’s dwindling gaze.
Stones of a glade near the solemn cascade,
entwined in a starlit sewn serenade.

Echoes of the water hymn
meander on empty boulevards -
I trod this sunken labyrinth on the sea.
I watch silk-clad cherubim
standing near the milky shards
as they join a haunted melody.

The girl sculpts lamenting statuettes
on the sunlit crown.
Countless hours within the tower
nesting angels in her lillywhite gown.

Ghosts of a shipwreck
pour into the starboard garden
and I paint their tears like pieces of an ocean.
They wander on the fore-deck
and sing as the eggshells harden.
I see to the dawn, filled with strange emotion.

She swims in the moonlight
as her body stills.
A winged flight in the fading night
while the chalice of golden wine overspills.

Sunday's somewhere in the teal dawn
wandering on a lukewarm breeze.
Monday pens weary travelogues
with fugal prose of frozen seas.

Tuesday holds a gilded halo
of sunlit cirrus atop the knoll.
Wednesday gathers ornate words
and begets infinity upon a scroll.

Pale gleams flutter
upon a lap of willowing streams
and in a dream, the sun melts
as the moon sets at the end of my bed.

Island marooned, mana consumed,
and with ancient runes, a song is stitched
as love is woven in the white of wool threads.

Thursday hums a quiet tune
and lilts over the azure morn.
Friday trods the afternoon
through blossom and thorn.

Saturday nestles in cool dusk;
a shroud of purple-painted skies.
We'll blot a scarlet streak of stars
and crown the night with your hazel eyes.

Hold
on to
these moments
before the year
fades;

you've
no more
in the vale
of your dreaming
mind.

Like
ripples
aswim in
the vast ocean
wane,

so
to will
your echoes
at the end of
time.