Island Reverberate
Whispers of the surf, they breathe
Into the hollow shell of dreams,
A conch not heard, but loud
In the silence of the windswept reeds.
There, where the horizon winks
At the sunset's slip,
An echo dances
On the shores of an unheard song.
Title: The Coconut Conspiracy
Scene: A dimly lit beach hut with suspicious coconuts and two amateur spies.
Spy 1: (peering through a coconut shell) I see them, they’re plotting, right behind the papaya trees.
Spy 2: (nonchalantly sipping coconut water) Or maybe they just wanted some shade...and a drink.
Spy 1: That’s exactly what they want us to think! Quick, send a message in a bottle!
Spy 2: (pausing) Do you think the bottle will get jealous of the message?
(Both stare at the sea, deep in thought, as the sun sets behind the confused bananas.)