“Beaches down in Bonita Springs”
The broad beaches down in Bonita Springs
can bring emotions back to the dearly departed.
As you walk down the beach,
the salty sea air mixed in the with the kicking of sand,
as the concerned mothers and sleeping fathers lay on their towels
as the kids continue to swim around in the sapphire sea.
The restaurant at the bend,
Doc’s Beach House
has a table reserved for lost memories.
Were everything lost
has been preserved.
A mundane task as lunch,
can be made playful
With Mei Mei’s hunch
And her trayful
Of cigarette dust.
The smoke of the air travels down the beach
were the ocean’s ripples leach,
and run down the coastal landscape
until the smoke reaches the pool of the house.
The house with the pool that coins were thrown into spun,
the globe that experienced travel
until it retired on my bedroom shelves.
But still, the smell of smoke filtered through the air.
Smoke.
Smoke means bad.
Danger.
But to me, smoke means belonging.
Safety.
Smoke is my Mei Mei:
wild in personality,
but with the tranquility in words
that Mei Mei knew best