The Tide That Dreams

Her face becomes a quiet sea, eyes closed to the noise of shorelines, open only to the language of currents. Fish carry her thoughts like lanterns, bright and unafraid, while small suns and smiling creatures drift through her hair as if memory were playful. Water paints her cheeks with patience, teaching breath how to move without effort. She is neither surface nor depth, but the moment between, where imagination learns to swim, and the soul remembers it was once fluid, luminous, and perfectly at home in wonder.