Seaside Hill

Dusk ~
A haze settles on the face of the slope;
Dusty facades rise precariously...
Bougainvillea stubbornly clings,
Blooming with bliss in the salt air

Cypress stand elegant and proud-
Amidst Olives that survive everything,
The tree signifying Death reigns supreme;
A reminder of ages that have passed by

Port of Call since Spice Route days,
Did my ancestors tread here?
What love transpired,
Beyond those walls?

The same lovers’ embrace, aeons old;
Blood mixed with the salt of man,
Skin upon skin of every shade;
‘Twas here the fabric of the world was made.

Kira Braun