I am cushioned by moss
where your chest rises.
The strongest muscle
a ruby gilded in rib
where treasure is found.
Daisies run up the mountainside
in early fog
that unveil
a cyclical story
with pages written
by atmospheric patterns.
Rain mists sunshine from unknown places
where sea perhaps touches the sky
becoming a rainbow.
It is history repeated
humid morning blooms
if only for a blink
before this too is forgotten.
