breathe easily
otto desperado that he is
is stealing scarlet leaves
scarlet streets from no one
lets the treasured scarlets be
beauty is what otto believes
only beauty is needed for this
precious theft
from his hideaway
scarlet trees own the shifting sky along the sea
lets the sweeping leaves spread the chilling wind
lets the bracing color race through the graves gray grass
listens to the praying willows
otto sees it is the pond too close to the sea
it is a drop in the sea in its scarlet ripples
it is the wreck of sea and pond
that come together in her soft scars
that lures you from me
the memory she never was
JP Pestana October 28, 2016 Sea Girt
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