Black Diamonds

Black Diamonds

And they will come, the telling whispers
On a breeze of salts and mist, the ocean
Won't prevaricate for prince or pauper -
And she will move
With the rhythms of that nightly vida -
Viva -
Boardwalk, beaten, worn,
Not proper, nor concerned with
Social conformity or fate

That weight she bears alone -

You might have missed introspection
Looking out across a foggy sea
Every thought of reflection
Falling to the stones below your feet

And she left her child upon the pier, swimming
Just beyond his comfort zone,
To her arms, yearning him:
"Come to me boy"
No fear, he leapt
Vida -
Red hair, wet ponytail,
Freckles, black diamonds in her ears -
She embraces him.
Viva

Monday's poem - hot off the word processor!