It hid in the bushes mourning over the loss of its nakedness. Storms stirred denial's muck, forming pools underneath the valleys where regret made the waters of hope bittersweet and foul. A carpet of lakes lied to winter's keeper. Peaks of an island's home float upon the horizon's throne. Sailboat, oblivous to my drifting life, flies the waves to aspiring shores.
Seagulls rage the windy turquoise sheet, circling and searching.
Appearing like a summer's sunset, an ebony pearl touches the horizon. The Universe explained, space between world's inched. Skakespeare's ghost oiled and framed. Along side, pears and cobblestones sold as memories from the artist's well of brain droppings. Hung and adored, the breath laments those core slivers bled from hunger rather than fire.