A Day in Monterey Bay

Maybe it was in the way the fog rolled in

Over ocean waves and jagged rocks.

The way the greens and blues

Mixed perfectly to form a

Sputtering, crashing,

Spraying,

Yet oddly peaceful body

Of water.

 

Could it have been the way that the

Sand clawed at your feet

Making them red, raw, cold,

Yet fresh and clean?

Or the way that the ocean air danced

Across your face

And through

Your messy, crumpled

Hair.

 

Was it because we sat

Wearing thick warm hoodies

On a cold rock

Just a few feet away

From lounging sea lions?

Or maybe it was

The distant voices

Of friends that we

Had grown so close too.

 

Perhaps it’s because

We knew

That the sun was perfectly

Fine with being hidden

Behind a thick bank

Of fog.

And the fog

Was fine with battling the

Harsh rays of sun.

 

Or maybe it was because

Your eyes looked at

The ocean and seemed

To say “Home”.

Or it is because your eyes looked

At me, and said the same thing.

Home.

 

I know now it’s because

The memory

Is even stronger than

The moment

That leaves behind an

Awe-inspiring feeling.

And in the crashing of

Ocean waves

And the glimpse in you

Warm brown eyes,

I hear the words

“Awesome, Awesome”.

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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