thoughts of warm waters . . . glinting shards of bright light . . . pools of aqua blue eddy round my feet, caressing my toes . . . bits of sand and shell sweep back and forth and sounds of gulls careen overhead . . .
looking across the bay, boats bob in the harbor, their masts spike the pale blue sky like minarets. The smell of tar and wet rope reaches me where I stand in a state of mesmer . . .
as the sun sets, I walk back across the sands, leaving behind dreams and sighs, the sound of waves lapping the shore . . . I carry with me the taste of salt on my lips . . .
I will return.