Dream poem 31: Golden Tide.

Madeleines
Golden, risen, plump,
And the path back so deep and wide
The gravel was flint shale
Golden and fragmented
Shiny with sea spray
And the path winding onwards
Disappearing behind high curving walls
Out of sight for a moment
Where are they?
Hurry, hurry, - no I’ll have to go back for them
Infuriating
Anxiety building
Tempers lost, tempers regained
Come on, come on,
And waiting and again going back for them
All the time a rising tide of adrenalin and anxiety
A high-pitched white-noise
Come on lets go
The golden tide won’t wait
I have to get there
Come on
Come on.
So long and far


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