The sky was blue that day,
speckled with white
And the sun was a pleasant orb,
Toasting the skin of the people to a light brown
Showering the tops of every wave
With diamond rays
The fishermen cast their nets
Methodically, cheerfully
And she peeked out from her hiding place,
curiosity getting the best of her
His hands smelled like crab
And he smiled, worn like the sea
And she smiled back,
hesitantly
Because, of course, it wasn’t custom,
this smiling
But she couldn’t help it
Because his eyes were kind
And he,
he couldn’t believe them
(his kind eyes)
For she was the stuff of fables
And she shed her scales for him,
the fisherman with the smiling worn eyes
And instead wore rosy pink legs
that toasted to a light brown
under the pleasant orb of sun