The Sun is gone too soon,
On my last night in Hawaii.
The clouds hang heavy,
With undropped tears,
And mourn the end
Of a dance of mist and fire
That was doomed to fade
Into moonlit grey regret
Against a spectral dust-ramped sky
Of scattered light.
The crescent moon glides content
On burnt-azure cloud-wrapped tides
As the water caresses my feet
Like a forgotten lover,
Once met but never known again.
When young I thought to catch the sun
and moon,
And clouds and trees besides,
As a backdrop for a world of light
To fill with tales of love and hope,
And leave my mark, indelible,
In the fond recall of a child's happy
dream.
The show, splendid without me,
Told tales that I did not care to
know,
Towered high with wit, then money,
Became banal, as all things do,
And lost its way, as I did,
Ending on a beach like this.
It's not too bad,
I must confess,
Except for wasted thoughts
Of what might have been.
The world has turned a page,
And so should I.
Thrown back to only words this time,
I try my magic trick again.
The afterglow is golden brown,
The moon pillowed in a ruffled bed,
The waves are hissing silver snakes,
Slithering to shore,
Their roaring spent, for now,
Like some lazy lion.
The palm trees crisp in silhouette
Slash jagged feather duster holes
Proud they are still there,
Despite the gales and rain.
The boat lights shimmer and twinkle
In a pool of hammered copper,
A perfect painter's splash of
Beauty staving off disaster.
Like everyone I gawk and click,
Relegating a moment that's too
intense to hold,
To electronic memory.
As I twist from left to right,
And feel my aging back,
The iPhone says I should move more
slowly,
When I make a panorama.
Twenty years too late, perhaps,
But good advice,
As the sunset fades to night.