I remember looking through strawberry lemonade,
as the sun set in June. The water almost stationary
while the ripples slowly worked their way up the sand.
Even the seagulls were silent that afternoon.
I was alone. Watching, walking and waiting.
The pinky-orange sky darkened as the sun
fell behind the skyline. I felt the
aftermath of lingering prickles — jeering blisters upon my skin
reminding me that I should have used sunscreen.
I was alone. Watching, walking and wandering.