At The Pier

Contemplative bliss communes with the serene, into the spirit of the placid marine crystalized in my mind. As the sun’s reflection spreads glitter upon its open sea, throngs milling to the melodious tunes of the guitar. Strumming troubadour, slim and rangy toe headed youth grins modestly as his tip jar fills welcoming spared bills And to the sounds of the seagulls gleeful squawk, soaring through the azure. Beyond the pier the magician plies his trade, tricks which awe and stun the enthusiastic crowds gathered about. And what lovely crowds willing, mellifluous, madrigal, thoughtful, kind, and respectful. Smiles abound as though the world conspires for a pleasant mood. I inhale the familiar primordial sea air’s briny scent. I take pause to ponder gazing out onto the vast ocean’s expanse. How much longer can I bare this aching fulfillment as I anxiously transpose these images and feelings into meriting words.