Along the edges where whispers wane,
the soul of the sea dips low,
realms folded in paperbacks dinghy
by the drift of forgotten lanterns,
tufts of memory strain against silent waves,
glinting in scattered starlight shrapnel,
a lure, a vessel forlorn,
chasing reflections
of tan skin dreamt in tides...
Flotsam Dreams beckons,
casting nets on mirage shores, dripping
with secrets borne high in salt-kissed chains
encased in curls of laughter, fractured invisibly,
a kaleidoscope of scattered sighs unsaid;
pause, peel one layer of the abyss,
is there sand left in that glass
of eternal wandering ?
they surface and veil,
launch their epistles against unseen walls.