But do you still ache for dreams
crushed by purple-shadowed storms?
Fever-hearted, you watch the diamond glitters
of sun-licked rocks,
~and after, you breathe, cooled,~
smelling all the ifs in blue sea whispers,
you drink it in–
yet even so, the wind asks why
time both haunts and heals.
Another sensory sort of poem. This time it’s my Saturday message from the Magnetic Poetry Oracle.