The sand, the sun and the waves
Seem similar yet disoriented each time.
That reddened sun looks so familiar;
As though the new born
Turning red with her first cry,
As though the face of a reluctant lad
Unwilling to go home as the sun sets,
As though the cheeks of a teenage girl
With butterflies and blushes,
As though the fury in a woman's eyes
Running her unsettling errands,
As though the red spots in a bed ridden granny's
Pale skin that marks her still alive.
How did I just picture a whole life
In the setting sun vanishing at the horizon?
