Without a Trace
Ocean dreams of quiet servitude
fresh water pearls and golden shores
pouring out, until there is no more
Silent skies sliding o'er the sea
motioning to rocks , seashells, and trees
Eggglantine shades of night lifting off the breeze
here come the sailboats, gliding on the hues
of one still night;
Wrapped in linen sheets of my own sorrow
I watch as morning arrives with her Peruvian promise
I am a wanting child lingering longer then I ought to
in this lovely, lovely, place
where one can dissapear without a trace.
Copyright © Mystic Rose Rose | Year Posted 2019
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