coconut vendors
Beneath the cobalt sky, where legends are spun,
Island life unfolds, as traced by the sun.
Amidst the palms, a verdant ballet,
A choreography of chores, in the island's sway.
Fishing boats gently bob, tales in their wake,
Nets entangled with the morning's ocean handshake.
Fishermen, weathered, their hands tell the story,
In salt-stained shirts, a testament to the island's glory.
Coconut vendors wield machetes with pride,
Husks cast away, like secrets to hide.
Sweat beads on brows under the tropical sun,
As the islanders toil, their day just begun.
Children laugh, chasing the tide's embrace,
Building dreams in the sand, a jubilant race.
Their laughter, a melody with seagull cries,
As the day unfolds 'neath endless skies.
In the market square, colors burst and bloom,
Fruits and spices scent the island's room.
Vendors banter, a lively exchange,
Commerce dancing in the island's range.
As dusk descends, shadows embrace the land,
Twilight whispers with a soft command.
Stars emerge, a cosmic display,
Over the island, where dreams hold sway.
Copyright © Mike Roberts | Year Posted 2023
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