There is
A dark red band near the horizon
The ocean bright blue
Like from a dream
Washing calmly ashore
During this dying sunset.
Higher above
The sky morphs briefly to light green
And spreads out to dark sapphire.
The clouds
In an other-worldly formation
Are almost stormy here.
The sand dunes are now shadowed with poor light
And seem gritty.
On the other side of the
Boardwalk
The sky is navy
Yet the subtle clouds are lighter there,
Brown-gray.
An airplane,
Glittering,
Descends through the air
And boats sparkle,
Jewels on the sea.
The city here is
A metropolis of lights
Idly moving and resting stationary
Like inconsequential insects.
We ride.
We are lone figures
Riding on broken-down bikes
Where the bite of frost
And whirling wind
Almost camouflage
The irregular groaning of the pedals.
With each new lamppost
Our shadows speed ahead, only to fade.
A new one is created behind from the place
Silhouettes are born.
The clouds south of the lapping tides
Set in
Enclosing the muted area
With a dusty twilight.
The darkness rules
And here the wooden boardwalk is shabby
With planks ripped out
And holes grinning sinisterly with
The unknown.
There are no more lamps
So even our creeping shadows extinguish
As we race towards the backbone of the night.
I witnessed a storm, once,
When the heavy clumps of concentrated rain
Bowled in the atmosphere
Left a strip of some mythical
Harsh white light
Near the horizon.
Then it disappeared, just a phantom.
The sky is now a uniform black,
Patches of spirit-clouds
Broken apart
Like the once existing Pangaea.
The moon shines
Near the roof
Of the celestial dome,
Ruling the empty realm
With its formless halo,
Making the clouds around it silvery.
There are no stars.
YOU ARE READING
Someone Like Me {Poetry}
PoetryWith power there come words. And with words there comes music. And with music there comes joy. And that's why I write poetry.
