Blue as the sea, Sierra Madres rim Bandaras, bay of flags.Mist bruises the mountains not yet burned by sun.Time for us to go, even though the colors hold like glue;magnolias and wild flowers beckon.One more day, you sing.One day more I sing in chorus.
In days, the sea will be a spectre,pirated colored glass the only reminder of paradise,fossil, flesh, and sand.
