Seashell Shoes~

she walks across a backwards cross tiptoe in her satin seashell shoes
the afternoon is at a loss, the case is closed /the show's confused
her hair is heavy in your head, trees like emerald brushes weave
the world went spinning on it's mysterious way
the secret's safe, the nut is cracked the deck is stacked to play,
her hands are waving like Summer waves the morning from your eye
like wands, amethyst and amber, remember to say, good-bye,
it's never really over though you know that the light is now the fuse
she walks across a backwards cross tiptoe in her satin seashell shoes~



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 571 times
Written on 2016-10-09 at 20:53

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