Wild Wanderer,
I know I am not your only admirer.
Each day comes to call
with a new flower bouquet sunrise
clasped to its chest.
My first magic carpet ride:
eight years old,
floating by my sisters on a gentle tide.
The weathervane clouds pointing
to endless places we would go.
Then, other times,
waves like lightning,
a sacred wind gong.
I stood defiantly on the shore
unsure I could brave the undertow.
Yet, this spring, the sliding door is never closed.
I write poems and take photos
before returning to sun-warmed sheets
for another doze.
And at night, I write by your lullabies
as the full moon puts its wax seal
on the sky's envelope.
Another love letter composed to the sun-kissed ocean.
Spirit of old.
©2024 | K.F. Hartless
Today’s Prompt: Write a platonic love poem. The poem should be written directly to the object of your affections (like a letter is written to “you”), and should describe at least three memories of you engaging with that person/thing.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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