The memory has lost some of its sharpness,
like a photo with dog-eared corners
and thumb worn edges
rediscovered from somewhere forgotten
But I can still feel the scratch on my palms
of chunky stone walls
marching onward towards the shore
where the sea swam darkening
around the ruins of an ancient fort.
While the sun sunk beneath the waves
and I squinted for a sight of Ireland on the horizon,
and the sky turned red and orange and pink and…
A single streak of emerald,
old news to the locals,
but pure magic to me.
Inspired by today’s Daily Prompt: Vivid