Mala Vrata 6

As the sun peaks over the horizon,
The sea is a sheet of glass
The leaves of the palm trees, still soldiers, await the call of the wind.

The town starts breathing.
Slowly at first.
The market opens.
Then faster.
People bustle out of their homes to get the first pick at fresh produce.
Faster still.
Church bells ring, crashing through the silent air.

A miniscule breakfast is hastily eaten,
The blue and white striped bag is packed.
Mala Vrata 6 is alive.

People call out,
“Dobro jutro!”

The beach waits.
Two young boys skip joyously down the road.
Sun kissed hair,
Sea salt in the air.

But still.
Stray cats slink about.
Smoke clings to the nose,
Debris taints the ocean.
Blemishes in a beautiful world.

Yet .
People still laugh,
And have good times,
In the summer,
Until they must say goodbye .

This poem makes me...
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