Clouds, Veins,

 

 

The ocean is lonely

with its gray swept gray grass.

Sadness to the horizon, I

do not belong here, the sad sun

dreaming through the portals of

magnified glass.

The lighthouse topperís streams of light.

Sky of raw crayon.

Iíll

sag against the thick-walled furniture

seemingly art deco, viewing the far vastness,

the deep ocean

for my all forever you.