Soft, Siasconset Morning This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

January 24, 2011
Soft Siasconset morning,
bless your spirit for this rain.
Tapping on my window sill,
crying into my lilies.
A candle light twinkles on my desk,
the moon and sun astray.
The ink satisfies my talents,
August I write away.
I compose such literature,
where my mind reaches outskirt places.
From the seas of my Nantucket,
to Somali's captured beaches.
The stories captivate my head,
of 1700 love.
Of ghosts walking beneath my feet,
and persuading me above.
It's the magic found on this morning,
where something in me may write.
Stolen beaches, and starfish screeches,
replaying through my nights.
Fisherman crying,
Dreary sin, lover's lying.
I confer to that place of hidden secrets,
where a cloud I sit above the sea.
Of crystal rain, Nantucket fame,
and whales shyly visiting me.
The seals perch the rocks,
and my mermaid she stands.
Her beauty within so divine.
Nantucket's faith within her hands.
I watch her blue hair, her
corps so gentle,
playing the chords of the ocean billow.
The rain protects my cobblestone,
from imperfection's twists.
I kiss my journal, for this morning blessed,
so soft, Siasconset, so soft.





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