Touched by something and nothing,
Sandy grains beneath her toes.
Blonde locks fluttered in the ether.
Daylight bright, like an over-exposed photo.
Naked arms swung to sing
To the azure skies graced by aquamarine seas below.
Fingers sweep the air, forever
Sensing the presence of nothing to show.
Sepia seeps through the scene,
Unseen by the untrained eye.
The desperation of the destitute
Despised by the surprised jet-set-ski guy.
An island idyll is an idle thought.
To idolise base on a tale regaled
Over an ocean red.
Under dusty skies,
Sand to and froed.
Covered ancient fables long ago.
Let the dead rest.
Colours are colours because we say they are.
Stars that twinkle do so from afar.
We walk through the ether, forever the grains of stars.