Skies of Amber Gold
She'd spent the day on the beach, all alone,
as skies of morning peach turned amber gold.
Silence broken by cries of gulls, echoing her own
as waves were curling; over the ocean they rolled.
She lazed in a hammock strung beneath palm trees,
trying to erase from memory the words he spoke.
His voice drifted on the wind of a warm summer breeze.
Utterances about the promises he'd made then broke.
She read a little, did too much thinking, mostly slept.
It was exhausting to do nothing and yet feel so jaded,
unless of course she counted the hours she'd wept.
A shadow fell across her face when sunlight faded.
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