Phantoms
Timeless. Where the horizon shrinks,
where the sky sprinkles silver lace,
once-eager waves reaching into peace.
We are lifted. We are something other.
He gathers his footprints across the sand,
a solitary walk. A wander into brilliance,
the hand of the sun’s rays shining down.
And strangers are met without speech.
Wet costumes cling to vibrant bodies,
perspiration glitters, laughter unites.
The old and wise sit back against the rock,
feel its coldness seep into their skin,
hats askew, towels drawn, toes dug deep.
We think upon the sun. Upon time.
Linger awhile in the reflection of ourselves.
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 8, 2024
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