How to return to that feeling

Those trailing fingers whose bloom of frequencies still linger

Illuminating breaths of life to pulsating lips

Like a whirlpool we danced above coral caressed by solar flares


Veiled in a misty haze our memory sings through the currents

From the isolated surface to the glowing deep sea

Searching for those moments in the abyss of time

Like jellyfish, I am naked to your existence.


By B. L. Crisp