Sails of Sunset
Two dhows kiss the horizon's blush,
one tethered, one free—
orange flame against violet hush,
figures small as memory. The sea drinks sky in greedy strokes,
turquoise bleeding into gold,
where wind forgets its ancient jokes
and only colour tells what's bold. Pull the rope of evening tight,
let purple clouds unfurl their sail;
in this small frame, the world ignites—
a voyage no storm can curtail.
Port Macquarie