In raging currents, all was lost,

A child tossed crimson yarn about the wind-struck rocks,

others stowed away in wrinkles of the sea.

They hid inside dragonfly homes.

When the tide unfolded, 

their children slipped through the blushing moonbeams.

They danced upon moth wings,

caught shooting stars,

then whispered secrets to them, cloaked beneath the hills.

From a lighthouse opposite the sky,

they watched ravens weave nests from 

broken guitar strings.

Late that night, the children walked a path of unraveled copper wires set in mist,

and the sea was quiet and watchful, licking the shore, waiting for the return of the red-wool caps.



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