Camadelmar.

She smells like the ocean
Where no ships often sail
And my thoughts of her
Bring back the awe
Of uncharted shores
Little islands of grandeur
Small stops of refuge
In an adventure so boundless
That makes it pointless
To remember it's finite.

She smells like my childhood
Like the odours of spring
In a lifetime where the walls
Were castles in the sand
And the suffering
Was for things wanted
Not lost.

I don't know her secret name
But I find hints in the whispers
I don't know her core
But my fingers grow warm
As I run them down her neck.
And she smells like the depths
Where all voices are useless
And she smells like the sun
As it glitters beneath.

On the shores of her story
I stand; the soul of a child
And the stride of a man
No more a bard of burdens
No more a way for swords.
On the shores of her story
I stand; waiting for the cigarette to burn
Counting breaths
As I wait for the counting to seize
As I wait for a taste of her ocean
And a breath in her deep.