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We set out to realize an azure dream to which we'd become enthralled:
     A hike through the emerald jungle to find the mystic Seven Pools and falls.
My young bride and I began, hand and hand, toes in the amber sand
     Starting the worn path up the steep, dark ridge of land.
One, two, three, four, five, six bubbling waterfalls and pools, as the trail rose
     Enchanted fragrances on steamy breeze, not the land for prose.
We bathed in the scents and the sights around us, a paradise reborn.
     Then an ivory golf cart pulled up; from the reverie we were torn.
The driver, unshaven, wore a fuchsia “Park Ranger” shirt.
     That assaulted the eyeballs; verily, it made the eyes smart.
“There are no Seven Pools,” he said with a charcoal smirk. “It’s a myth.”
     I knew this to be false, but wasn't arguing with a Sith.
A scarlet lizard on the side of his cart disagreed, shaking his head from side to side.
     “If you want to go back, I’ll be happy to give you both a ride.”
A coral amakini bird flew chattering over our heads, as if saying,
     “Follow me instead.”  Our feet padded excitedly over the soft ash trail.
We emerged into a clearing, gold sunbeams on the towering seventh cascade
      Naked, we rushed into the falls and embraced; wild passion and joy we made!
Then clambered out, dry clothes onto wet bodies, scratches on our knees 
     …and just in time, a throng of tourists emerged from the trees!

3/15/16

For "United Colours: Colourification" contest by Silent One

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