The seagulls cry
The wind swallows it whole
My skin is cold, the air tastes like salt
Water lapses at my ankles
A steam or creeps by humming deeply
My hair sticks to my neck
My thoughts are as pure as the setting sun
It's bright and warm
The moon full and white shines through the rays
Pink and promising
The Artemis blocks the view leaving the harbor
The ride is cold
Knocking against the rocks
I close my eyes and soak in the small beauties that's the day has given me
YOU ARE READING
Contemplation
PoetryPoems to feed your soul Some old and new Be wary that the content is raw and open
