Blue green skin and sand in his hair
emerges the child from the sea.
Built brawn and strong, for one so young,
by the brutal currents of the deep.
Neptune’s people are strange and few,
kept so by the Gaia people’s decree.
He guards his steps like one betrayed,
clever enough to remain free.
Blue green skin and pointed ears,
he breathes through slits in his skin.
He watches the sun, and touches the wind,
with less ease than the land-dwelling kin.
Dark turn his scales, the fleeing fish.
I sigh as he returns to the ocean.
Why does he visit this withering world?
Little on land inspires devotion.
Some choose to forget the past,
though many try to believe,
we won’t err again, kill all other men,
poison beasts, air, water and trees.
One day I will stand in sight of him,
Will he stand or flee to the brine?
There must be a reason, why he visits every season.
Would he show me his world as he has shared mine?
Crash of surf, the wind picks up,
I approach the breaching tide.
Magnificent in flight as from the water he dives,
lands on the sand, black eyes bright.
He extends a scaled arm,
Slowly for he sees that I am frightened.
He takes my hand, I step off dry land.
It is cold. His grip tightens-