The Beach
The Beach
There was one spot upon the hill
where when the sun was just right,
and you got up real early, you could
see the ocean. Just a glimpse of it
as the sun bounced its morning yawn
across the bay. It seemed a million
miles away, that strip of salty coolness
glimmering in the distance. We had gone
there once, riding busses with the
windows open, the smell of city
pouring in and the thrill of mystery
and adventure building. The slender
strip of ocean now become the suitor
of horizon’s hand, hot grainy sand
to sift between the toes and waves,
Oh man the waves, that slapped against
hot skin causing shocking shrieks and
shivered smiles. The taste of salt
licked slowly from the last French
Fry, the feel of sand and stone in
tickling erosion beneath the feet,
the touch of drifting seaweed, the
tightness of fresh salted, drying skin.
Shared sandwiches and Kool-aid
raised to gourmet grade by scented
breeze off ocean waves. Hot seats
on stifling bus and fast asleep,
a stone to hold, a memory to keep.
The spot will e’er remain the keyhole
that I peek through at a day, one day,
when we were there, the sun, the sea,
the air, and me.
John G. Lawless
2013
submitted to – Summertime Fun – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Debbie Guzzi
Copyright © John Lawless | Year Posted 2015
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