One day when I am old I will live by the sea. My silver hair will be a mess of salt and curls. My freckles will disappear in to the folds around my mouth when I smile. The gold will drain from my eyes in the winter, leaving them the colour of wet leaves and saturated memories. The bottom of my pants will always be damp and my hands always cold. The moody skies atop and the manic ocean beneath.
I will live on a rock in the pacific. Just off the shore. Red lights flashing in the night to alert the ships of their course. I will sit and watch the waves. Seeing glimpses of my past in each ebb and flow. I will be able to tell when rain is washing ashore just by the sounds the gulls make. I will wave to the fishing boats and swear I see mermaids in the coves. I will wish upon the starfish and watch the trees grow bigger with each year, as I do the opposite.
