There was the soothing song of the welcoming breeze caressing an effortless touch of warmth and tenderness on my skin and soul.
There was the intoxicating robust scent of earthy wildflowers encrusted in tenuous fragrances of pineapple and coconut with notes of the sea whispering in the wind.
There was the oozing impression of nauseating sapid saltwater, immersing my tongue with a tingling briny taste that tickled my tongue in an oddly yearning sensation.
There was the alarm of regal dance I saw in the serenity of the wavering pale sky-burst orange twilight glare of the setting sun’s silhouette echoing in the moonlight.
There was the lingering residue of the rich aroma of ardent pine and floral guaiac wood layering the muted night with a fragrant nostalgia of luau woodsmoke.
There was the explosion of colours in the traditional drink, the guava fruit performing an intimate tango with passionfruit in an effervescent dance of finesse.
There was the deafening yet enhancing susurration of the colossal ocean waves striking the sand shore, pulsing rhythmically, and breathing with a tempo of an unyielding passion for violence, causing chaos in the luminous night.
There was the distinguished putrid odour encapsulated within the sails of seaweed billows, releasing the oddly desirable crisp briny whiff from the seashore.
There was the tantalizing orchestra of spirited symphonies performed by diverse tropical bird vocalizations, melodious to the human ear.
There was the effortless leisure of relief by colliding with the dampened gelidly grains of sand against my exposed skin, the diverse, granular textures cascading through my fingertips, illuminating a clandestine collection of unspoken memories.
The nostalgia of summer.