Peach Pale

Photo by Jan Gottweiss on Unsplash

The small places
they went

The smell of fried fish
hung in your nose
where people were

The smell of the sea
where they weren’t

The sea peppered
in her sins

Peach pale rock

fog which attached itself
to the horizon

As the world tilted to the left
the water
rippled rhythm

The birds moving the fog
with their feathered hands

A median of land
between a sunrise
and a sunset

Left a small reflection
of morning as the days end

Naturally scattered stones lined the sea
creating a place of rest

Uncomfortable to the mass
of man
with their crooked spine
and boney bum

Neck crooked and back cramped
however, the mind paused and content
disconnected from their vessel of life