marine loves flying windage flags in a woman's hair

darling, with your violin sounds falling around your hair
and the summer gently laughing with the breeze of the sea,
they are telling us to be you and me. We felt our way
with braille treasure maps through the dark of disease
where the streams converged into rivers named after circles
spelled with flames. And with this camera you've brought
to the shoreline, the paintings of photographs will catch
your lipstick grin as it blooms above the bone of your chin.

And in the bay of their shadows, we drank lights emerald glee
we told off the TV and got a reprieve, so sing with your instrument
all the lessons you've learned, play with your language and
create health from disease.

See the curtains climb with sunlight at the end of the day
and with the moon's lantern we will go traveling until
the eerie morning undoes night's unraveling, when it's time
to pack up, when it's time to make up, when its time to break
up with our anchors stuck in the watercolor sea.

Follow the fins interlacing with the sea's lucent marine wind,
flow with what's within, all that water begins to turn into
harmony, the harmony from your violin chin. So kiss me with
sequence, and sing that we'll win, bow me with melody and
trill me with sin.