Let me be your pebble —
resting softly in your frothy
wave-embrace — you
my tear-salt ocean,
you my kelp-girl, crested lady
let your seaweed loose and play
until one day you’ve grown tired playing,
when we have danced together
pretending it’s forever;
then leave me tumbled into castle-sand
for boisterous children playing,
knowing no and never.
A little poem for Margeret prompts on ink and alkohol paintings at toads.
October 21, 2019