The Old Mariner

He sat bent upon the sturdy rocking chair which now supported his frail body, grey eyes staring ahead into a bleak old age. Light tufts of wind and sunlight danced across his withered face, forcing remnants of his once thick hair to float in the breeze. The familiar scent of salt wafted from the ocean, filling his nostrils with the sweet aroma, though his senses had become dulled with the passing of time. Waves crashed upon the shore and though the old man had heard the sound a thousand times before, his mind echoed in remembrance of it, come back to me, come back, the sea seemed to call. Presently, he glanced up, lifting a gnarled hand for his crooked cane. He carefully stood up, his back never becoming completely straight. Wearily, his feet crossed the porch to stand near the railing, which he had constructed himself, along with the rest of the house. Looking to the west, his eyes met the sunset, glowing brilliantly against the cloud glazed sky, slowly melting into the horizon. Red, pink and orange became one, creating a completely unprecedented color, blinding all who dared gaze upon it. Seagulls called in the distance, beckoning the old man toward the shore, begging him to once more visit it's long forgotten sands...