, , , , , , ,

I chased the poster’s dream

As it fluttered high above the breezeblock sky,

Its white-wisp clouds kissed the blue,

And even though

It was not there

An egg-yolk sun caressed the flesh

Of perfect bodies on the sand

As draped in tiny fabric slices

Their feet in silken silver grains

They let the gentle tide

Carry off the cares

They never really owned

A thousand palms

Captured in stop motion

Waved through the lens

Across the miles

And beckoned to their world

Their silent mouths too still

To whisper truths

That they would always be

One dream away from reach.

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018