Blue,
Cold,
and Wet crashes against Stone.
smooth,
strong,
unmoving Stone cradles Blue in its mothering bosom.
Cloud,
independent in its constant transition,
mocks Cold from above a cliff.
Cold,
defiant, yet afraid,
whispers desire to Stone.
Voice cracks Stone’s beautiful exterior;
threatening lingering stains like a blackberry against a pristine white sheet.
Wet licks Stone’s cracks promising it will never leave....
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