9 - Imagine

I've been scrying for a reason;
capturing misunderstandings
in my dreamcatcher;
it's nightmare season, hot air.

Blown like summer winds
across the deep atlantic tides.
I've felt your voice follow me
to the island where I imagine
you've found me in the grass,
covered in moss and the
malachite leaves.

Does it feel like we've always been
together, does it feel like we've
never been apart?

The End

28 comments about this poem Feed