Ghosts

We see the air
That used to be
Erasing everything
That’s there,
The boardwalk graced with
Antique dusk,
Waikiki
With torches’ glare,
All the seaside
Come to life,
The dunes restored
By human tide,
Endless waves
And gliding time
Poured
Inside the mind
Like rum—
Where memory saves
The real reward
For last:
Blinding beaches from
The fading past—
And on postcards
From an ancient sun,
Dazzling regards.