A Book at the Beach

At the beach, my favourite place,

The wind blowing my hair into my face,

A stranger approaches to chit chat;

To be polite about this and that.

 

Amongst the grassy dunes, sandwich in hand,

My toes drying out in the gritty sand,

The ice cream van goes tinkling past,

So I go to buy a Fab at last.

 

Near the end of the pier I’ve opened my book,

But now I’ve got to take another look

At the surfers, learning to surf down below

Falling and splashing everywhere they go.

 

I lie down to sunbathe under blue skies,

Yet clouds roll in over seagulls’ cries,

As the rain starts to fall and won’t leave me alone

I decide it’s best if I just go back home.

 

Here on the sofa with tea at my side,

I don’t have to worry about high or low tide;

I’m determined to see, by hook or by crook,

Whatever will happen next in my book!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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A Day at the Coast

He licks the salt off my lips

As the sea gushes forth

I am blinded by the sun and lost in my thoughts.

He holds my hand and the sea flashes above us

The cold light pinning us down.

The waves tug at my dress while the rocks caress my feet,

smooth from years of being beaten down,

shiny yet worn and old.

There is no one on the beach and there is no one in the sea

Save for us and the greying birds

Who circle above the encroaching tide with silent beaks,

Waiting and watching for unsuspecting food.

My hands are tangled with seaweed and his eyes are closed shut against the current.

On the way home we shiver in our towels, sand in our hair, and on my mind

Are the sharp silver fish that flitted around our feet as we got close to the shore.