
I watch storm clouds darken the sky
through my kitchen window pane as
far-off lightning tingles across my skin
my teacup cools on the tablecloth
and my pencil skitters over this page
the paper is old, so old, smells of ocean
of starfish and barefooted souls
dancing with unicorns and hippos
in the branches of ancient trees
my skittish thoughts dance their jig
and I can’t keep trying to wrangle words
that won’t queue on a parched, yellow page
perhaps the hour has come for waltzing
for slipping off shoes in the sea-grass
to dance with the wind in a nonsense rain
—–
(for Em)
(provided words: lightning, hippos, unicorns, old old paper, ancient trees, barefooted souls, starfish, kitchen tables and tea)
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