There's a stray of hair whipped free by the wind
plays inattentive across your cheek
as your hands dance supple against the calico & hemp
arranging with operative precision
like the sun gleam against your alabaster cheek
golden in your eyes shining
With deliberate passion your hands
clip the multi coloured cloth waving
like a message from a waning ship
as if you could just reach out & pluck
it from the waves like child's play
You reach back tying the strands
back wrapping the errant pieces into a
careful knot tight each belonging in it's place
like ships sailing flagging their unanswered calls
wanting & just out of reach
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