By mid-morning the marine-layer lifts
and I remember
you wrote this in a parlor in Paris.
With eighty-eight keys of cascading colors,
you travel counter-clock across the Pacific
to this beach where I ask you to paint me
blue green violet.
With lightest touch then tsunami,
you smooth me out with fluid palms
and smear the lines that once defined me.
In these sheets of textured music,
deep as your brown eyes,
I’m churned in something true and sparkling—
but the sound of your soul
—or the sea.
Dedicated to my favorite French composer, Claude Debussy (22 August 1862 – 25 March 1918).
Writing and photography by: Katy Claire Funke
Featured image was created on the Brushstroke app.