Bone white, drifting with the current , rushed ashore by the lacy tide, white capped waves on sugary mounds, only to fall back into the lacy sea. 

Ribbons of sand diffused with light, soft écru, coaxed abalone to an ambient glow.

Soon the tide will devour the day and night will descend, distorted and bowed, the curve of horizon swallows

the sun in a wheel of sparks and a moon that I made for you streaks the sky with flecks of gold.

Saatchi Art “flecks of gold”