Waves

The waves’ little licks, muss piles of sand; chalk blue horizons, bathe crystal-glass land. Wet basting breezes, Salted pink baby knees, oiled baby bottoms cool in the seas. Oceans reflect, the blue of turquoise; beneath candy striped umbrella’s toddle tikes playing with toys. I can tell you of the waves; the push and pull, the ceaseless tide, the tiny tumbled treasures of pebbles by my side. I can tell you of the waves; the sinking surface of sea and sand, joining all the clay of man; as he sinks into the Mother and melts into land. But the paper pages end and why should you sit here? The waves are calling to you with birds, boats and dreams.