With storm breath and flickered fear,
we open journey-jars, spill-skip dream
-coins into bubbled shadows. Dance a
wish, lull-curl-whispered across spring-surface.
The echo-sound’s a cued breeze,
melted shimmer-grin-ghost. A boast-giggle,
drizzled-green dawn. The twist leaves sparks,
still-twisted scars that pepper-cloud our longing.
This is the One With All the Words, for the Q44 prompt over at dVerse today. I’m hosting. Come play!