Islamorada

House of Heart

This morning  I threw wide
that carved door of souvenirs.
The scent of sandal wood
filled the air and  missing
you was a stone bruise.
Tonight  I will walk down
to the shore,  that galaxy
of pearls and tumbling  waves
of frothy champagne.
The mangroves are filled with
flickers and blooms and the
sky glimmers with silvery mirth.
I could stay here until Spring among
the  honey cake dunes and not think
of you at all.

 

renesoto

google art

 

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