August Moon

My wine glass catches a burnt sky
and pours lilac over pan fried sea bass,
couples clink and chat laughter
as the lonely ocean plays with silver.

A sturgeon moon scoops waves
high over the last strip of cooling sand,
as swaying beach front lights
splash colour onto dark returning tides.

Held hands remind me of charm bracelets,
unwrapped on the drift of distant music.
I smile looking down beyond your chair,
until the dry drips of an empty bottle
make me look up.