Shape-sifting through stolen whispers,
the tide weaves tales in moonlit sighs,
brushing secrets on sands only imagined.
What dreams, fickle and fragile, drift below?
The mermaid with violet scales pawns hourglasses,
while the breeze plays solitaire with shadows.
Can you hear the silent surges echo
where footprints lead to desolate doorways?
Beneath the waking ocean
Gravestones of whispers
A halo of texting stars