Crimson memories

                        Crimson memories
           
                     

             
It was an ordinary sunset,
But I must acknowledge
the hues of passion,
It generously shared with me.
And even with the sour and salty notes of the breeze
I crouched in the sand to soak the colours into me...

Broken beer bottles
lay idle 
with their bodies
dug deep in sand
They were remnants of a
hazy evening,
That now meant nothing
Or perhaps were remembered for the sake  of the sea banks...
Or the beer they held in hand..

Golden foils of chocolate,peanut skins and crumbled papers that once held roasted chickpeas
They're all inhabitants of this seashore
Only at times are they tossed
Or swept into the sea...


And then there were those orange shells
I pick them up to see
Crumbled peels of an orange 
Roast into a crimson shade 
A crisp crimson 
that an artist's palette might crave
They rest next to my feet..

I pick one up,
Curled it around my toe
It made a pretty ring...
I slyly slid it into my pocket
And hence here's an apology..
An apology to the seashore,
"For I'm sorry, but I like to carry my crimson memories..."