Upon Cocoa Beach, in morning’s gentle embrace,
The world lies shrouded in a silken fog’s lace.
Soft sands whisper ‘neath my solitary feet,
As dawn’s quietude and ocean’s breath meet.
The sky, a canvas of muted grey,
A prelude to the coming of day.
The air, cool and moist upon my skin,
A tender caress, a whispering kin.
The steeple rises, a ghostly spire,
Amidst the mist, it stands, silent and dire.
Palm trees sway with a rhythmic grace,
In this hazy realm, time slows its pace.
A hammock hangs, still and forlorn,
Awaiting the laughter of a day reborn.
Houses peek, their outlines blurred,
In this soft world, all is unstirred.
The sea’s soft roar, a distant sound,
A symphony in the fog, profound.
I walk, and my thoughts begin to roam,
In this misty morning, I find a home.
The light grows, a gradual birth,
As the sun climbs to illuminate the earth.
The fog begins to lift, to rise,
Revealing the awakening of the skies.
Yet, in this moment, I am alone,
A soul adrift in a world of its own.
Here, where space and time coast,
I am but a specter, a fleeting ghost.
Michael Stephen Wills Photography 