House of Glass

Fisherman's wharfWater soothes the gypsy, calms and evokes pleasant imagery. Vibrant, transparent color, wishing wells of knowledge, fragile glass trinkets, forgotten treasure, long discarded. The sea and her black ink mystery, whispers in tongue, tales only I can decipher. The beach house perched precarious on a bluff, chimes dance and sway in the wind, calling me home. I know this place, I have been here before, she beckons. I am not ready, sea legs unsteady. Spirit bound blue, red and green, hauntingly transparent, over persistent and all too familiar.


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