Hour Twelve

Blue

In white veined petals,
I see the sea,
Veins becoming foam
As tides rush in and out,
Captured in a snapshot of fragile flower,
As short-lived as the sea is enduring.
Blue fills my vision, my memories
Of standing on piers, watching waves,
Captivated by this dangerous beauty,
Taste of salt on my lips and breeze in my hair,
Hands grasping the thin, steel railing
That is all that prevents us from joining
The waters below,
To be swallowed whole,
And be surrounded by blue.

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