The clock is ticking away time, and matching the
rhythm of my own heartbeat, tick, tick, tick.
I cannot sleep, and counting sheep does not work.
I close my eyes tight and what do I see drifting
gently by in the warm breeze, but the triangle shape
of a candy-cane sail skimming by as if it was a water
bug on the sea.
Drifting in the air was a salty mist I could taste, and the
smell of seaweed.
Seagulls were taking off and landing on the sail as
if planes on a runway.
Next came a square shape sun colored sail gliding
over the ice with its runners, as if it was wearing
a pair of ice skate.
Drifting in the air was pine, and circle’s and swirls of
white that stuck to my eyelashes, and made my skin
break out in rough sandpaper bumps.
It had grown so quiet I could of heard a pin drop.
The breeze stopped, and so did the boats, one on the
slippery ice, the other on the sea that now reminded me
of a mirror. I look into the sea, and seen that stars
of yellow, green, orange, red, and blue, had fallen
from the heavens above.
I made a wish, and the next thing I knew the
warmth of the sun was reaching towards me as if it
had arms, through the open window.
The clock still ticking away time, that match my own
heartbeat. Tick, tick, tick!
Counting sheep does not work, but counting sails on the sea,
time just sails by.
Photography Credit https://flic.kr/p/7e9ytf