Comments about Greg Dennison
Your shores extend into the dawn, and for a brief moment we are one.
In silence, my thoughts are fleeting like Diana's arrow piercing the evening sky
as stars burst, drifting upon the cracked tiles of seafoam green buildings.
And, from rooftop to green hills the heart calls out like the trill of a distant flute.
The heart in search of beauty, unrefined.
In a darkened corner or along avenues. Waiting to find acceptance.
Waiting for the sea that is a woman: unpredictable yet graceful.
And I know what I would do:
I would see her sitting alone in an outdoor cafe.