If only I was your child, who dreamed
for morning stars to trail along midnight's
chorus, with five exultant instruments.
I would clutch thin air, wanting a love
to call my own. A round blissful smile,
lips outlined in autumn, each second
lost in sleep, a remembrance I could taste.
I no longer can will myself to wish on the
ocean swell, a butterfly upon lightly bashful feet.
Won't you erase history and make the colors align,
before the sun wears in, heaving its pregnant eyelashes?
Boundless islands we have never been,
embraces dry, unsweetened liquid tears
running back and forth poorly.
Our innocence is now too far past.
Turn me inside out and leave my face released,
I need to understand, I am driven to feel
your summer signature, a whisper's
impalpable heart beneath sand letters.
