Larimar

Like Mother's beads that she wore every so often, 

Like the oceans that smoothed the sandy beaches,

as the painter brushed the white canvas gently and intently.

Like our hands that were tainted with the royal dyes that wealthy women wore.

As if I were watching the drowsy movement of puffs of white move across

the great beyond on many generous days

Generous days when the sun rose and shone,

The Earth's cape and God's heavenly vault in wait.

Yes, of skies, seas, beads,

all in the eyes of a prophecy,

"A small little thing", 

And I looked at her with wonder, I've never seen such eyes appear

and look at me so kindly.