Wheel of Horizons

Upon the sand where time drifts slow, a wheel of silence waits to turn, its circle etched against the clouds, a compass for those who dream.

Children run, their laughter tossed like shells upon the moving breeze, while huts stand watch in patient rows, guardians of summer’s fleeting ease.

Above it all, the sky unfolds, a canvas stitched with light and shade, the Ferris wheel, a fragile star, spins stories only hearts have made.

Here on the edge of sea and sky, moments gather, rise, and fall, a turning frame of days gone by, holding the horizon in its thrall.

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