Bagamoyo

As the sun dips low, painting the sky in hues of gold,  
the mangroves sway gently, guardians of the shore,  
their roots whisper secrets to the lapping tide,  
while coconut palms stretch high, reaching for dreams.  
Fishermen, shadows against the fading light,  
cast their nets into the twilight,  
the ocean calling softly,  
a dance of hope beneath the stars.