fading over the eternal horizon
to dance in far off playgrounds
auburn flames streak outward
fighting the days near end
rolling from the white horses manes
the touch of Poseidon’s breath
paints lips with drifting, salty air
lost in the ebb of moon pulled tides
no words break the crashing silence
our hands mingle
Poetryman
Copyright © 2011 by Mike Sutcliffe
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