Holiday at the Wild Coast.

Golden green days
Satin starred nights
Tepid teal water
Tipped with coffee foam
Shady blue shadows
Dapple manicured emerald lawns.

Wood smoke scents and roasting meat
Fragrant Frangipani
Wafts in slow bursts
Competing with coconut sun oil
Elusive scents
From secret flowers
Fishy tang in the salty spray.

Glossy brown and wavy white
In wind swept goose feathers
Rippling grey pelt
Of the upside-down monkey
In the ship swaying tree
Green leaves in full sail
Fluttering frantically.

And then
The Heart of Darkness
The last ice cubes of joy
Left to melt on the threshold
Of the darkened room
Magenta and heavy gold
Opresses and dismays.
Old weary faces
With snapping turtle mouths
Tummies meeting breasts
As slumped postures
Crumple in deep cushions.

Drifting stale smoke
Languid flies buzzing
The sickly remains of discarded drinks
The noise
The cacophony of fake money
Falling
Bells ringing in
The endless hours.

And the faces
Intent. Angry. Fearful
Desperate
Frustration bile rising.
Fists clenching as shoulders rub
With faceless rivals
For the syrup pot.
That sticky sickly reward
For sitting wanly in the dark
Through weary holiday hours.

Dance out.
Into the brightness
Eyes blinded by the shell pinks
And silver glitter
Of the hot sand.
The teasing breeze tickles ears
The milk teeth of the waves nibble toes.
The seagulls soar, joyous.
The bright sun caresses
Reddening skin.

Holiday has returned.

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