Castles of Sand and The Coming Storm

A short poem about a dream I had of making love as water began to flood into our room.

Our castles stand erect in the path of the coming storm. The tide swells like a lip bit with the kiss of a midnight tryst, sheets clenched tight in fists as the waves rise and fall, consuming the shore, flowing in under the door, as naked on the floor, we lie, while the water continues to rise and wash over our mosaic thighs, twisting through our legs at odd angles, tangled in each other, whilst our castles become one with the sea, freed from the tether of gravity.

Reviews

[Simone Davis]

Always good when a poem reminds you of yourself great written piece.