She is a small island

Her eyes are absolutely beautiful things.
They are filled with the color of the sea,
A gentle pulse of blue linen water

Bright, slipping between waves into a
Corridor of tidal pools; warm, with
Curving hands near a bundled shore of

Stones, shells, footprints of seabirds,
Tide’s departure in a whirling trance;
Forever and forever shifting, flowing in

A mason jar, only quite not everything- the
Brief scent of a child’s memory gathering sand;
Overhead clouds floating by; the horizon
Not too far off to accommodate a dream.

Copyright © 06/25/2019 lance sheridan®

She is a small island