Dusk on the Shore

Coast into the sunset.

The sea gulls cry out one last time,

Swooping down to scavenge.

Down the beach, a campfire blazes.

The water rolls up on the shore.

Fishermen bring in their nets,

After a day’s work is done.

A young boy in a straw hat

Reels in his fishing pole,

Closes his tackle box,

Picks up his bucket of fish,

And heads home in the dimming light.

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The Sun Sets

Waves crashing on the beach.

I feel peachy to know

The secret inside your mind.

I don’t mean to hide.

I just want an honest answer.

Do you prefer

Grilled or fried?

I’m not too picky.

I like both.

I haven’t smoked

In a month.

Terrible habit, it is.

The sun is setting

In the purple sky.

One last glimpse

And then it’s gone.