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Aquamarine
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the sea inside of me I am a labor of love with rumors on the wind should she be unheard.
As all sounds descend oceans wash in dappled grey shafts of fog.
White wisps of spray disappear into the deep green it seems absurd.
They breach and swim the currents southerly like the herring hog.
Seagulls stretch across the sky of aquamarine.
Mourning is in their exaggerated calls a life rhythm keeps.
As I settle for nuances like a lovers last words serene.
It is a stormy heart across the skies and seas that weeps.
