A Blissful Dream
Just out of my reach.
Beckon the words to the edge of my lips.
Interloping intruders:
Bring me there,
Where little beauties
Are spoken in common
Tongues, pains and
Sorrows are swaddled
Away in palm leaf cocoons,
Sunlight splits into seams,
Shining pillars bathing
Undergrowth, coaxing
Worries away.
Bland sheaths of wheat
Aren’t grayed; they show
So thick with gold they
Summon memories of
Ancient greats from the
Collective conscience.
And, at the edge of it all,
Was the one hammock floating
In the light wind, where
I listen to folding waves
Gliding over sand before
The undertow ebbs
Into the turqoise reflection.
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