Shattered shards of sea foam open my eyes
nothing to do but drift through this tepid stew.
The porcelain palm trees lean in and whisper
about the ending, or so they surmised.
Closing my eyes, I take time to construe
and I see an angel; and I kiss her
and the world grows weary, silent, and still.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 2:49 AM UTC
Shattered shards of sea foam open my eyes
nothing to do but drift through this tepid stew.
The porcelain palm trees lean in and whisper
about the ending, or so they surmised.
Closing my eyes, I take time to construe
and I see an angel; and I kiss her
and the world grows weary, silent, and still.
These are the words I'd use to describe a single slice of a trip I remember from a time past approximately one and a half years ago.
Request permission to use this poem