A Poem: The end of quiet surf session

12/6/2013
The time has come to say goodbye: our satisfaction for the small session is finished. You, who stayed to my left, balding middle aged guy, and you 'goofy-footer,' on my right, though we barely spoke, I feel our kinship.

My bruddah, you were steadfast in passing me your ball of board wax when I needed it. You were gracious in offering me a few waves that you could have taken yourself. Although they were small in size they were large in bliss and contentment.  No surfer can ask for better companions.

The session is over for all 3 of us, as we paddle in. Life's  responsibilities are now to take over. We are leaving behind an unusually empty surf spot.

We will go our separate ways, not a fond embrace, but perhaps a relaxed shaka. It is unlikely we will meet here again, but perhaps, we will: paddling in the sun, the gently rolling swells, catching sweet, soft unhurried waves, glancing at  the Ko'olau mountains in the distance, not completely impeded by the skyline of Honolulu, and in between sets, sitting quietly, saying nothing.