Rowing Toward Heaven Poem by L. K. Thayer

swaying in the breeze of witches
flapping crimson tides broke.
the shine of his galloping caldron
at midday, dripped down his boot.

off in the distance, the fisherman
eloped with the dove.
carrying squeals of laughter
trains crashing on formica.

scalding brew of wizards
missed planting forget-me-nots in February.
I miss wearing his raincoat.

lost at sudden death, I found myself
rowing toward heaven.
wishing for a second helping
of charming,
I settled for freedom.