Long Years

by Captain! Blackthorne

Long years in the space of days it seems
As a promenade over twinkles of periwinkle crystals
Carry these strokes from the Pygmy thief
They are patters among flutters of radiant sprawls

And verdant is he as the new grass grows; the siren, she knows
We are free as the windswept phallus is plied, and the ground that spies
And as we trip backward on the gleam of cerulean trappean
We return in flashes of moments in time