Roatan

Your shores are but a distant dream
Each memory like a grain of sand
I cannot wash clean of your beaches

every light reminds me of your sun
I flip the switch searching out the horizon
I no longer sway with each gust
The wind cannnot penetrate these walls

Being back in BK has been a bit of a shock to my system. I've never considered myself one to laze about much, but yet I find myself yearning for a hammock. The hand crafted threads cradling me as I sway gently in the warm breeze. The sounds of bob marley cooling my spirits as I drift away in a sea of content. The only hustle is from the scurrying of the crabs as they make their way back to land while the moon reminds us of what has passed and what is to come.

My mind is not a blank slate, no, it is free to frollick in its own maze. Kicking up long forgetten memories of days past and adventures that have yet to come to fruition. There is so much to discover and yet I could be content wasting my days right here.

A foreign smells enters my nose like the most pungent of smelling salts. Bob Marley is silenced, the beat replaced by a constant rumble. My toes no longer feel the air whistling through them. My eyelids feel the light of the sun beating against them, pulsing as the clouds and sun play peek-a-boo.

I open my eyes to my distorted image reflected off chrome. My head is perched on the shoulder of the person next to me; Next stop Canal street.