Driftin’ where the shoreline bends,
A shift of light, where water ends.
Fishing lines, worn wood and docks,
Quiet moments, time that talks.

Pink blooms flicker, soft and brief,
Blues that rise, then fall like grief.
Cocktails sipped beneath the sun,
In-between, where days are spun.

Soft sands and shadows, muted tan,
Layers of moments, caught by hand.
Tides that pull, but never stay,
Shoreline calls to drift away.