ABSTRACT

PHOTO BY PIXABAY
Erroneous...
Spasms like a wave at sunset
Gently uniting with the sandy shore
Serendipitous collision maybe...
A tender to the touch feel
But you are gone...
Crystalline illusion that is fading fast
No prismatic rainbow
That hoists the pot of gold
What am I to receive from a naive heart?
Turmoil grasping for navigation
You are gone...
Time will indeed wane
Hills and valleys await to greet me
For I radiate warmth
Monarchs shall flutter their wings merrily
But for now no whistling from the wind
You are gone...

(c) Monica St Hillaire.

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