Low Tide

At low tide, the green scarves of seaweed

Have adorned a necklace of broken shells,

A shawl of glistening wells, where waves creep,

Iridescent like opals by the reeds.

I feel safe here, a lullaby of bells,

Where rusted chains are ringing in, the deep

Blue shafts of the ocean.  I need… I need

Forgiveness for the shame of my farewells,

To be at home again.  But if I leap

To the red moon, I will bleed… I will bleed

Red rain.  This is my secret.  Never tell,

Or I will wake you when you are asleep.