When the wishes do not die

They walk the streets, lurk in trees,
Stalk the bare shadows
Lying on the waters mossy and still.

They ride in trenches wreathed with slurry
Creating volcanoes under the sea,
Sobbing, becoming empty shells collectible as gifts.

Rising at times with the swelling waves,
Falling silent as the day ends,
Stealthily growing the wings in colors of cellophane.

Pivot less they return flying into my face,
Weathered with moist surprises sunshine piercing through
Glowing of unseen years and forgotten faith.