Creative Writing
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Golden Orange Hues

Golden hues filter in through the window
As night falls slowly and the air becomes crisp.
In the distance, the bridge’s towers gently pierce the tinted sky
And the waves roll in, crashing softly,
Coming and going, coming and going.

A woman sings sweetly
Playing gorgeous melodies with her guitar.
The travelers listen intently, enraptured.
The magic is palpable, created with each song
And destroyed once again with each forthcoming silence.

The guitar allows itself to be strummed generously,
As the darkness outside engulfs everything in its path.
The warm lights inside the cafe are cozy and welcoming,
Offering a safe space to connect, to write, to dream,
To breathe in the beauty of this moment
And of this life.

Mahalo, soul of mine,
For your generous gifts of song, of word, of breathtaking views,
And of pure light.

Photo by: Belén Alemán

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