Written March 16, 2019

Silhouettes of swaying palms
plastered upon a sky
sodden with glistening stars.

december, may, february,
they don’t mean anything here,
in this playground for fools
Surrounded by beauty and yet
They care not.

Why make all this so
you can’t be thanked?
They are in submarines:
waiting to drown in a sea
of turquoise and coral.

They care not.

Contemplations © Safira Schiowitz