Pinpoint of light harvests morning:
sweat on your lip, eyes grey as sea squalls
leaning into tomorrow with last night’s rain
clinging in humid air.
I dream of palm trees, wild beaches
that turn into this urban coat:
ascension of light.
You dream of a lost love dressed
in white roses, singing her siren song.
I’ve listened to this song, you’ve fed
me wise sayings, we wipe the debris.
We talk of cottages and seascapes
punctuate intentions, history crumbles
into morning pockets where rain falls like spittle;
you ride crested waves of a coast, unknown.