The mermaid’s wait, Part one: A poem 

Stinging sea anemones bark 

even in the abysmal dark 

Winter in the abalone park 

But her heart nurses a spark 

Rich purple in hope’s sky 

Blank moon peppered with rye 

Like a boat she floats 

in her dream’s musical notes 

Gives her the grace of a doe 

A switch of being from head to toe 

And her face is laced 

with this expectant daze 

Hopes for a change of breath 

before the touch of sunset 

where the water becomes earth 

and the fire and air of mirth 

For this she’ll wait, and she’ll wait 

like a mermaid reposed in faith 

for the prince, at the shore’s gate 

He is always running late…