In turquoise seas she plays with salty breast And rolls in foam, the sand coating her chest. Apparent ease at close up camera clicking. Paraded coyly with her long legs kicking. The waters clean her skin but not the marks And rising tides wash-up old memories Of glanced-at prints that flooded flawless cheeks: A touch…
Day: September 27, 2020
Morning Haiku – 77
Pinpricks in Rowan: Rubies turn witches To Fire in branches.