Wednesday, November 9, 2011

The Brine Child

forlorn I meander through the flowers and the fields
feasting on the willows when the air is dim with night

towards the moon, the path makes its weary way
and I with legs of dew and frost
amble with the shadows, playing in the dark

elbows in the thicket, tangled in the brier
my hair weaves the starlight, glimmers of tomorrow

the sea is at my feet,
and to my left, the sand
I am counting time
making measures in my hands

with magic thick
and foamy waves
I sing oceans into madness
spin the brine from in the wind

with a voice like mellow winter
a hint breath beneath my lips
I mutter to the starlight

"You are my forever
You are my End.
please take me away
to never ever ever land"

but my voice shatters
and ice crashes to the ground
the sand is only glass
a lonely child in the rain
unfound among the ashes
of this dying place.

I want to write the Brine Child's book.
She sounds sad.

Picture credit here.
Poem by me.

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