by the colacolored waves
whispering their swaying sounds
sun this sunday early lays
’pon its waterbed o’ clouds
blanketing these cooing gales
mintsweet firs to kill the chills
counting ships those reekcreep snails
sail its walls o’ frosty hills
days descend like paper sheets
yellowing synced with leaves whose trees
shiver black with tea & seas
Add comment