VANILLA SEA

Alone
She lay,
In a sea of scented sorrow.
Lonely
A vanilla world
Amidst the silent trees,

Forlorn and forgotten
Head bowed
In dulled acceptance.
The fragrance
Of sweet summers
Of harvest and bounty,
Mask the pain
And the loss
Her remains, a shell.
Vanilla sea
where no waves stir
Upon the oily swell,
A honey trap
All silvery beach
And rod like boughs.
Alone
She lay
Her body anointed,
The little ant
Forever entombed
In the depths
Of the Vanilla sea.

Phil Hall  September 2014
Copyright: Philthepoet61.blogspot.com
Photograph: Phil Hall 2017