Gratitude comes in waves, leaving colored streaks as the Gulf inhales at my feet.

The world is reflected the surf, and time itself swirls in it’s eddies.

Friends, both met and as-yet-not-met gleam like flecks of paint on a well-composed canvas. I know them, because they let me; I love them, because I’ve come to know them.

The teal and green waters cover my feet again as the Gulf exhales. I ran joyfully here as a child. I walked pensively here as a young man. Now I stand here, awash in wonder.

And color.

And friends.

And love.


Author: Sibelius Russell

Sibelius Russell (a/k/a/ Owen "Beleaguered" Servant) lives a life of whimsical servitude -- whatever that means.

6 thoughts on “Waves”

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