The shadow that hides behind me
from the glaring sunset, red,
claws into the dry, salty sand
when I stretch my arms restfully.
If I close my eyes,
I almost hear the crashing waves
behind me in the absent sea
nearly break this endless dream.
The shadow beckons my sandy feet
towards the calm, retreating tide,
enchanting me, enticing me
to walk with in the growing shade.
And sand, darker and water-marked
bewitches me like fragrant rain,
as if this fine and flying dust,
heedless bursts of absent flame
were really howling frantic winds
spiced with stinging snowflakes, cold,
rattling, curtained window-panes,
and homeless snowmen by the door.
I’ll shadow Shade, my lantern flame,
and seek dry bones of angelfish
that mark the sand like outcast waves
to lead me to my ocean dream.
There, I see the perfect moon
rippling in my ocean, pale,
and cry dry tears of ecstasy;
Shade, do come and drink with me,
this phantom water is heavenly.
T. E. Pyrus