Pitter Patter

They look at me unknowingly. A creature of a mythical past. Hair of cinnamon sprinkles and fins of urban legend scales. Windmills of honey and grim reaper tales. I flip over sea shells and breathe with aquamarine lungs. Scarlet eyes and white lights. Magic combs and unknown explorers. They crave curiosity, but fear the unexpected.

Sea Strung Sailor

Let me disavow my anchors, and set forth on wooden pleats of cherry and oak. I will stumble with the rising tide and cure my wanderlust eyes that yearn to dance with the Northern lights and the pirouette of Polaris.