lhandlott

The sound of the blue, an eternity of complete acquiescence, I cannot move, nor do I need to, for it is enough to lie on the cliff And become entrapped in a world of escapism and peace, Cerulean transience of all my imagined shores, A bird of the ocean perches before me And lets out a shriek which transcends me back, Back to where I write, And the calm breeze continues to enter my peripheral. D.