Whisper to me, Forsythia, in silhouette,
your lips only a shadow when I call your name,
setting the sail on our Odyssey.
Waiting for the ghost of us to cross the periphery,
over horizons, and echoes two spirits together,
of prophecy by the sea.
Following echoes of a name I cannot place,
through ruins of promises time couldn’t bury,
perhaps fate left a doorway between us.
Where distance cannot silence what remains,
if our ghosts should find each other there,
will some part of you remember me?
Through the veil of a thousand years I’ve searched,
for the light in your eyes Forsythia, that matches,
the starlight guiding me home.
I think this one came together beautifully. Thank you, as always, for inviting me into the dance of words and imagination. 🙂
It’s always a pleasure, Curly.