Sun slips into sea
tinging waters pink
as first love’s blush.
Their love, sowed and tilled
through leaving tears,
rekindled in this place
where sky melts blue
into waves of aquamarine.
Bodies meld familiar
then spark as old wick
stammers then flames,
passion reborn.

Quadrille (44 word poem) using the word “melt” as prompted by Grace, tending the bar at dVerse, a poet’s virtual pub. Photo: sunset from our deck in Bermuda.








