Sleeping Maiden

Her sleeping golden hands,
	reach fore-froth tender,

		bubbles and dreaming gazes,
	touch travellers unknown.

Sights of blueness,
	windmills race in evening’s
			space and wonder,
				to inspire.

		Dawn’s fleeting dimension of distance,
	(comes)

Fluorescent pearls,
	great and crimson white,
		piously take flight,
to seek out homes in Suns of Renewal.