We were vacationing in the state of
palm trees and welcoming seashore,
in September's mild loveliness.
I, a sexagenarian widow,
hobbled by arthritis in my knees.
As my family enjoyed the surf,
I sat contented on a creaking
wooden pier,
taking in the salted breeze tossing
my gray hair.
I heard the seawater beneath me
ripple, then a splash,
and a masculine, "Hello,"
there in the mossy colored brine
was he.
His long brunette hair flecked
with sun-kissed gold,
it was entwined with tiny
conch shells.
His build of brawn and
burnished skin,
eyes of an amber hue.
Handsome in oceanic
resplendence-
I then realized he was
a merman!
As his iridescent lower body
of sapphire scales and
magnificent fins swirled
in the foaming waters,
I thought what would a
youthful merman want
with an elderly woman,
when there were younger
women bringing their
charms to the sea?
He spoke again, and I
was mesmerized,
"You were once a maiden,
a strong swimmer of
the waves," he mysteriously
smiled,
"King Poseidon remembers
his people of the deep,
although you are aged
and infirm,
your soul is of the
aqueous realm,
and know this message
I give to you today,
while you sleep neath
the late summer moonlight
tonight,
we merpeople love you
for your caring of our
vast oceans and their life."
He reached out his
strong hand momentarily,
and placed a flawless pink
pearl into my outstretched
hand.
His eyes so captivating that
I never wanted to stop
gazing into them.
As he softly bid me a
farewell,
his fins slapped the waters,
as waiting dolphins leapt
in happy unison,
he disappeared beyond
the edge of the pier.
Charleston Merman,
I'll never forget you,
my sweet nautical memory,
as the perfect pink pearl
is displayed on my nightstand. ~
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