Treasure Island

Honey Bee


Lost


Lost in loves lumbering and rolling mists
Foreign yet crisp and refreshing on my warm cheek

A blustery misty fog tides my frame over to you
My eyes peer open, uncertain and blinded

Brace forward arms outstretched
Cushions of air break my fall, softly, tenderly
Slippery wet pebbles underfoot jar into my soles,
A sanctuary patch of dewy green grass to rest, toes slithering through

Unbalanced through my knees,
Although strong but weakened at my ankles
Tipping forth, tipping forth I fall

Falling I cannot see,
Landing I cannot feel,
Arising I cannot grasp,
Lost in loves lumbering and rolling mists

Submitted: Monday, February 11, 2013
Edited: Monday, February 11, 2013
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