Le Reverie de Maryann

Bubbles brim with champagne glim by the bent of an evening tide, and dressed and redressed for a sanded song is our pert and courtly bride.

Her scales and pearls and salted curls were wanton and select, and there's none richer still than her golden trill—and voice, ring and affect.

And the sand dollar hollered with the starfish aloud along in harmonie: On that gray-faint day, you could stay and retrieve Maryann's reverie.