I sit on Stone. Bare legs feel the cold seep through the pores of me. I feel the texture, the smoothness, the slightly serrated under skin. Breath leaves no mist on the azure. No haze to clear, no sight I bear. I am in a mist and the mist is in me. Wind rushes through the corridors of Memory, moaning, whispering in pain and ecstasy. I am a figure in stone. The wind continues to moan. Eons pass by, I don’t question why. I feel vibrations from the other side. The waves continue to lap the shore. Sunshine warms my heart no more. The tranquil blue, the soothing green, the playful orange that leaped up at me. The Sea once more I long to feel.
The fins are at rest, the eyes downcast, the cold never thaws, but forever will last. The smile is frozen in time though the Clock continues to chime. Living flesh turned to eternal stone. Mermaid of Copenhagen is my name. I live in my mind and Wind continues to moan….
