Monday at Batalie Beach

What is it about this day that purports me to dreaminess?
Perhaps the sweat behind my knees cooled by the
Loving caress of this sun-licked Caribbean breeze
As I lounge on this warped wooden bench scrying the sea.

Searching for purpose amidst the foam of the gently ebbing water
Lazily trying to decipher the code laid out by the soft white sand.
My reverie is astutely interrupted by Ruthie whose
Wide toothy grin disarms me of my esteemed reflections.

Over warm tasty bakes and semi cold brews we converse
Through the years that have flown foreign to our friendship.
Her cocoa skin and eyes furnish a stark contrast to my paleness
As our laughter spews forth an unmerciful yet almost melodic duet.

The sun now battles somnolence not wanting to retire,
Casting its vivid palette across this lethargic evening sky.
The seabirds peruse the coastline in search of tidbits for supper
Left by tourists who now make their ways back to their inns.

Calypso music ripples from the open air bar, making it all too easy
To remain for one more drink and a few more colorful stories.
But I fear that I must bid you good night my dear friend,
For on the morrow I once again set sail against the tide.