Serpentskirting

A green carpet weaved 

Of dream residue, rich algae, 

Gathers lush and settles slowly

Round the lip of candle day. 

From the golden pool I rise, 

Shedding my cloak of soft moss 

And my armour leaves, 

Which cascade in a shower of dark confetti 

Towards the auburn forest floor. 

I am a little flame.

I am a child in a memory.

When I am ready

I am going to go back.

Dewy threads of spiders’ silk line 

The shadows’ mellow edges, where 

Dark fountains sink like islands 

Into a black and knowing sea. 

It's all kindling to me.

When the flame dies 

I am ready;

The dream-scum disperses

And I dive right in,

Becoming once again 

That dark and noiseless landscape.

𖦹°‧★ Afternoon in the mountains and the air up here is so much sweeter and easier to breathe. Still I can't do anything but lie around and write.. sending autumnal warmth and coziness :)