Serenity Slope, Saint Sebastian

Sunday; summer solstice ’77

Second Spire

Suite 17; 66th Storey.

She’s still sleeping…

Spontaneously swooping songbirds, serenading sacred seascapes, sing sentimental songs sailing swiftly southward.

“Stop staring,” she says sleepily, shyly smiling. Somehow staring seems so surreal since seeing Sarah; seems so somatically subsistent. So smitten, so savourable, spending Sunday supine, staring softly, searching space seeking something supremely synchronous. Such supernatural safety shines so serendipitously symmetrical, sharing sweet, saturating sustenance simultaneously. Suffering seemingly stands still.

Suddenly spring’s setting showers surrender summer’s sun-shining solar salutations. Sagaciously spellbound, sequentially supplying shuddering shivers seamlessly, she smells so saccharinely sacrosanct. Sarah’s sibylline sensibility, silkily stoic, sends sensory stamina spiritually.

Safari sunset stretches scarlet sorbet sandscapes, swirling sandstorms shading saffron shadows, sets soothingly slowly, scattering sapphire skies surreptitiously.  

Starlit striations signifying sybaritic synthesis start sensualizing Sarah’s supple self-sacrifice, singlehandedly sewing such sumptuous subsistence symphonically. Stellarly shining sorceress shakings slide sensually symbolic. Shooting stars sizzle several spiraling slipstreams, strewing sawdust scents sparkling seaward, sinuously surrounding Scorpio sentiences swimming spaceward.

Soft-spoken, “Such safety shall stay someplace shared so sedulously,” she says, studious.

She sings, “Spirited seasons steer, steer strong, steer sheer. Snowfalls settle silvery, showers scour sure, sunshine strengthen shimmery, shadows shelter secure. Strong stone stay stout, sweetheart seeds stably sprout. Steadfast seasons steer, steer strong, steer sheer.

Seminal sunrise sparks sanguine spruce shelves, swayingly standing synchronous, silently speaking secret solutions symbiotically.      

◄ Rats in the Courtyard

Let's Go ►


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