couds resting on an ivisible ora,
moving like an army marching carefully
into the distance with a little help from behind
in the shade of their protection
we climb out to a familiar spot
here she lost her sunglasses, once.
here we used to come and dream together, every summer.
the box sank to the bottom after taking time
to get used to the water...
and was opened at one end.
(because of our lack of patience..
or perhaps embarrasment)
bubbles who sank trapped
escaped only to rise to the surface
a sign of life brought in her final resting place
behind us a pair of sunglasses are lost
by an unrelated human subject
a sign?
perhaps a special coincidence..
no, just proof.
i knew when the feather drifted over
no no, thank you grandma...
peace
love
loss