I am reminded of the days when ocean met sand and the sun rose before I fell asleep. There was music in the night, and the sound of wind through the palm fronds pulled the dreams out of me.
spent the weeks in the forest looking up into the trees at pink pigeons
and green parakeets. I waved to you across a mountain once, and I ate
the white fruits of the forest and cleaned my hair with the rain.
ocean always stood mighty before us at the end of our drive. The sugar
cane swayed and whispered in the warm afternoon breeze and we saw the
swell of the ocean as it pulsed toward us, distant silence.
we lived upon that hill, in the middle of an ocean on the other side of
the world. Over there. So far from home and so at home all at once.
We existed for a blur on this small green planet in a turquoise galaxy.
now, as I sip my California wine, with the echoes of the complaints of
the day, the murmurs of my responsibilities crawling through my brain, I
remember the six months I spent over there, in the middle of nowhere.
My heart it sways to the memories of a remembered way of life. It
stays with the music of an old Indian Ocean. My friend, I miss you.