Caroline, was that the bell?
Time to unfold it all away.

I’ll grab your bag, just give
me a moment, light is coming
into the window now like then
and again.

A room full of petals to welcome
the morning wind, shutters wide open
to ocean air.

I waltz with myself in a salty room
broom-swept but no worse for wear,
still smelling of summer, now I samba
on sand from beaches I conquered
barefoot, on bleached plank floors
carefully o’er and around broken glass

Caroline, you’ll call when you land?

After you’ve had the time to
grab your bag from
the carousel
before red-green
lights whisk by
and carry you away

I mist the room of petals
to keep them opened wide
alert to the sound of dark oceans
dancing waves, froth sexy
whitecaps warm in bare moonlight
rush about our ankles

I am breathless
running full-speed
maniacally at the threshold
of something about to burst

Caroline says she’s coming again
to pay a visit, without any bag this time

sans parcel, save a pair of dancing beach sandals
and a bucket of merely shells.

dark rum, slow rumba, undulating sand,
I wear clothes to capture the breeze

she shines light
luminescent – she is cyan in color
a cyanodite
she reflects moonlight

Caroline says I should
talk a lot
less

© Chagall ∞