Blue Splashed with Waves of Foam
cascades spray echoes of my name
I listen for more, ways to open some door
alas, she whispers the directions in code
through the thicket that tears, tangles, then thorns
adrift, amidst bramble and stone
with a broken sway as I make my way
but to catch a toe, on a jagged snag
to tumbling out onto a glade
tiny rumbles froth forth from that brook
her hair was a blue splashed with waves of foam,
long and slender her frame, a dress made from names
for long the dead wander here in their sleep
before she can awaken the lost, the lonely, with lies
whereby a blue stream through a glade, lost in the thickets
dead men realize their demise.
R – 6/7/24
RadioactivePoetry 