Strange Writing
Comment 1

Queen of Cups

Sea salt in her hair

A breeze on her lips

Her hands clasp a cup

From which only she can drink

Her throne a thousand pebbles

Smoothed by sands of time

Her crown woven by grasses

From dunes rising tall behind

The sky a cloudless blue

Sunshine warms her face

The sound of lapping waves

Holds her in an embrace

Eyes closed, head back

Floating in an abyss

In her mind’s eternal depths

Nothing is amiss

1 Comment

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