streams
and like loversI fall like down
on a seabed of dreams
and memories
of burnt sugar
and parafin
a centime tapped
turntable of scent
Hot Saturdays
when thin tyres
melted on tarmac
a pifflou floating
in the wind
we would blow
to tell the time
Holding hands
and a red bikini
careful to hide
at the bottom
of a dusky pink sac
hearts embedded
and limbs long and sure
as we'd walk
across the dunes
where the marran
scratched at our ankles
the sea
a million miles away
and a line of
sandhoppers,
fanta in glass bottles
I fold into squares
and triangles
gingham and braid
roughly chopped curls
as love unfurls
in a summer heatwave,
staving off questions
and not listening to answers,
denim and kisses
go unchecked in the sun
and fun
I slip
and follow
trails
silver snail trails
of lies
that run a trajectory
seeping into
the cartology
of youth and love,
scents and dreams
and all and everything
that runs in streams between.
Poetry by Elle
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Written on 2020-05-27 at 18:48
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F.i.in.e Moods |
Christopher Fernie |
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