Miranda emerges from the ocean,
curves like seashells,
warm and vibrant.
Eyes full of sun-diamonds
like the ones that cap the waves
that cling to her, wanting her for their own.
No, goddess, that way lies madness…
She twists the seawater from
her hair, and shakes it
as she runs it through her fingers,
and makes me want to be a strand.
She walks the warm sand,
a native nomad,
her smile as she lifts
her face to the sun puts it to shame.
And I feel like the first explorer
to claim these shores
who found its only treasure,
watching as she trails my dreams like
small plane banners
behind her
as she leaves.
Beyond Panic 