The beach appears calm as the full moon shines.
The sea waltzes a mile back from the sand.
A smiling fisherman his boat aligns
before the sun shows off its orange band.
Some old men form a circle to gossip.
Their easy-chairs seem heavy with laughter.
They relish the spicy tea sip by sip.
And retell the tales once much sought after.
Soon the moon will shine less and change the tide.
The circle of old men will diminish.
Old tales will fade as they have run their ride.
Pretend not the sea-salt to be sweetish.
Those chairs will remain so will the circle.
Men will be replaced by a new cycle .
