Far below the waxing and waning tides
and the hulls of the ships of men,
boulders carved through time
become the ocean’s cradle.

Where water is warmed by ancestral dreams
spun from pirate’s tales and a lost seaman’s treasure,
mermaids sleep.

A deep sigh echoes within
the salt water’s hum
cushioning the ear.

Timeless comfort of gentle pressure
against scale and skin.
The mermaid’s blanket at bedtime.

Octopus glide past
and starfish hush them,
while full moon strands of light
illuminate the deep.

Fluid tails caress the undersea breeze
and the mermaids’ long hair perform a mesmerizing dance.
Closed lashes frame rosy cheeks and shallow breaths.

Beauty in full surrender,
resting in strength.
Reflecting
their truest essence.

Creating an undercurrent of
longing.
To the drowning …
a life-giving breath.

They are
a compass in the storm
North Star to guide by
the bounty of ease.

Far below the waxing and waning tides
and the hulls of the ships of men,
boulders carved through time
become the ocean’s cradle.

Where mermaids sleep …

Copyright Laura Marshall, Writer