Mermaid Paradise

Pastel colored beach bungalows, sunny days, ocean views, and rum cocktails.
Windblown hair, toes in the sand, cry of gulls, and crashing waves.
Lunch at the cafe, reading a book, people watching, the fishing pier, and a gray pelican on a post.
Long afternoons, walks on the beach, coconut palms, and a thousand pink sunsets.
Lazy days, shady porch, ceiling fan drone, and naps in a hammock,
A drive to the back bay, wandering the marina, boats entering and leaving, fresh fish.

A tiny paper umbrella sits beside a glass of melting ice cubes, crashing waves, the empty hammock, it's sunset, the pelican has left his post, all boats safely returned to the docks, the fish are on the table eyes open and mouths slightly agape. I'm dreaming of you wearing that white cotton linen dress, we walk on the beach toward a thousand sunsets - always into the next tomorrow. But I'm standing on the beach alone, the sky turning brilliant colors above the horizon, five or six pelicans silently flap their wings and glide as they fly parallel to the shore. The vaguest of moons is slowly rising low in the eastern sky. The last of the fisherman have finally left the pier, the waves still crashing as they always do, me standing there watching and waiting . . . still dreaming of you.