Fishbowl of Dreams

It was an afternoon
The air shimmered heat
In it floated time.

And fine woven thoughts
That haunt minds at ease.

Time was a bowl
And the little goldfish
Swam lustily.

No end or shore
To her oceans,
Time was company.

Time lifted the mermaid
Comatose,
Fighting for every breath.

When time ran out
Her company was death.

Every Sunday afternoon
A heavy meal
Served to husband and
Family.

Ten children and assorted
Kith and kin
Fed to the gills.

She settled
To chew betel leaves
And dream.

Her finest hours
Myriad somnolent states
Freedom's frolicking in
Comatose
Finest threads.

Compliments of
Hours replayed
Inside
Her oceanic head.

A few more
Fragile moments
And then
She was dead.

I, one of many
Granddaughters
To her thoughts
Pay tribute.

Haunted by my own.
Playing her same old
Love songs
On same old familiar lute.

Is my afternoon
Your aftermath?
My eyes probe fluid flights.

Fancy flickers and ebbs
In my goldfish bowl
Time's trapped oceans.

Strange symphonies lilt
Mermaid days laid out
To dry like fishing nets.

Sand scalloped sabres
mindless muted men
Emptying the catch of days.

Memories old and gold
Silver shoals and
Sunlit scales.

My fickle treasure hold
Mercilessly ascends
Into thin air

Rising gilding
Afternoon's gold
White silver rush
Of slow exhalations
Caress infinity.

We spirally uncoil
Outside ourselves.

Unspooling DNA
Shortening telomeres.

Exiting stories, that are
To be continued
By our children.

That's how we live
That's how we leave
The
Merciless ocean.