They say she descended after one summer storm
Like a pretty reverie arched right out of the blue
With eyes so expressive as if they whispered secrets
That men were entranced by that delightful hue

Some say she emerged from the sea late after dusk
A balance of dark and light that nature surely dyes
Designed and crafted by the hand of a divine being
Because the ocean depths were captured in her eyes

Others will tell you she rose from a field of flowers
As if the flora had tinted her windows to the soul
Bearing a delicate semblance of love and mystery
Like art captivating hearts so beautiful and bold

But…

It was I who witnessed her sliding down a rainbow
On a spectrum of imagination where fantasies go
In a stream somewhere between violet and blue
In a winged surreal dream of a girl named Indigo

Serendipity
True to through
Though, a rainbow travel far
The question of might, is openly should

A house of energy's
Quiet critique
Halt and habit, specific
Live sincerity's life well, we have each

Doors may close
And suspect a chaste
Is a courage to pose
The other side of promises, fast

The conquering of death, with dread
Ahead is a boding continue
Of what we know, is a living lead
To the sigh of consummation, with liberty due...

We see the creation, the commotion
Owed a love, by the reality of sakes
Made to keep a rolling serve of devotion
To the mercy of us, all of a lover's might, with which we make...

Talking tea
With a summoned friend
More than a shadow of due, we...
Know the skirting of justice, to end

Tea with a risen moment
To verify the calm, of seem in a worldly cast
Of duty before youth, a travail to know and lament?
The tally of sore senses, ready to accept here for ask

Somber news, inevitably the voice of regiment
And reason, are you all in life, a rational yet
Come by beauty, of sincerity and just terror to relent
A having dance of minds loved by the appetite we whet

See the misery we appoint, to another
Cause and effect, with a bidding lip of real
Enough totals of shared more, the need of an open bother
To come forward for the soul, if not a spirit of courtesy to feel

Into the void of common questions and answers
To the fate of hours we destined to hope
In the name of couth, and its most frightening tear
With the place and tale of nearness, with a choice beyond cope

Tear the chide of need from your face...
Sent with the love of us, might we sake a new rainbow
You drunk like a passion of demand and the order of says
The chastity of heed we all know could, an eye of heaven to owe

Little more
Then a callous effort...?
True to my spirit; a chance, a form
To notions care to find worth

Little back
Where almost sake also...
For a simple right, to the instinct we lack
A habit of merit in the kind, is a shared owe

Little mere
So found a new silence, to be the kind
Suppose and revealing a who to we're...
The pious beginnings of a stead to mind?

Little bite
To eat the days needs, without the pout of deeds
Taking a time away from us, let us see the might...?
That means the most, for must to begin a history that leads

Little mean
Saving grace from a strength's limit, toil in logic
Does a liberty know us for a savior's intuition to seem
The better of could, the nary of faring the rise of life be intrinsic?

Little blue
Waiting on the lucre, the dote of simplicity to favor yet
The sameness of prowess, to ask in suggestion a curious look
Is moments at own, an atone or a thought, of the loan we met?

Finish my pout:
Still in silver service, silence for stone
Speed of specialness, I implore to route
A friends smile, to a season of its loan...

Brazen, the tooth of intimacy
Even to the point, of reticent doubt
We are the sigh, of a debacle, ready for instancy
That has come and gone with needs, the many is now...

Courage
And the taint of a maligning lip
So sovereign, for a river of couth's, wage
*** and deliberation's share, in the stoic misery we whit:

Is a taste in wishes with none's voice, for more?
Set in mutual distrust, the music of completion...
Is a hardened drive for poised meager and tumultuous, war?
Of sincerity to fathom the just, the tow of comprehension with sin?

I hate, therefore I dream in colors...
Of heaven with a remembered plea:
Sated with your soul, and the intricacy of what honor; force
I have given not, the heed of history, in the voice of youth to be free...?

He stared down
                into the dark, twisting waves, as if
a voice spoke to him from
                                                         the watery depths
                             below.

                                            It seemed to pull him in and
                                                                                              pool in him.
It swam circles
          in his curiosity.

The Sun stabbed at the waves, washing rainbows     over
glimmering abalone.
                Translucent bubbles danced
in its light.
Fishbones lay quietly on the ocean floor, forgotten.
                                                                                   Starfish whispered to him, tales
of how they had lost their arms to the
                      creatures that walk in the sun.

                                                        Urchins complained about the oil pooling in their waters.
Sharks gave him the silent treatment.
And despite the fact that he too had legs and walked in the sunlight,

                               he knew he was not made for the sun,
                      but for the sea.
                                                            And the waves whispered his name with
salt and foam.