Book is open, eyes closed
Orange clouds call thun­der
Salty breeze flap­ping pages
under peach tinted dust,

Dark­ened dunes lonely cas­tles
cast­ing saf­fron on coast­line
Ocean–amber indigo
melt­ing last golden rays…

Draped in the Suede of first shad­ows
Night pulls black sleeve of cloak,
Weaved in dia­monds and rubies
lace of mask over face

cast­ing moon shot reflec­tion
in the glis­ten­ing mir­ror…..
Split in half glassy king­dom
War on top –peace beneath

play­ing won­drous drama
Splashed in blue sward of light­ning
Thun­der cracks abyss open
strik­ing torches of gold

rolling waves ever mighty
Mephistophilus plays Wag­ner
sweep­ing moon with the star­dust
wind is wail­ing above
Brig­an­tine har­bored under.…

Rags of red silky dresses
Drapes of sails flaw­ing down
Play is over, seats empty
actors fired. Alas!

Salvador’s melt­ing watches
Kings of noon­tide are bro­ken
Mast—lit stage holds unspo­ken
Final, short epi­logue
of what once was a drama….
Sleep­less nights twined in passion!

Para­mours’ time­less play­wright
Moon– is hid­ing in shad­ows
Prima donna lays pas­tel
Wreath of lilies –white tears