She Sells Seashells

After the Storm 

The storm is passed 
And remnants of dead things litter the shore
A sodden dress here a broken heart there 
Bits of smudged paper that once cradled a world in bleeding ink 
A dreamer embraced in a bower of debris 
Poor man’s treasure rich man’s prize 
The sea is blue-er than the bluest blue 
Green-er than her eyes
Salted as her tears
Crystalline droplets shatter under a benevolent sun 
And clouds drift like tired lovers across an endless sky 
Still waters run deep 
Kinder by far than the lament of the wind

Beenish