Waters Edge

in writing •  last month

IMG_20180603_142852.jpg
Quietly I stroll along,
Listening to the Oceans song,
Warm sand between my toes,

The crispness of the waves,
Tingling sensations on my feet,
Sun baked sand dollars bleached,

Salt and brine tanned hides,
Sailors' backs climbing the gangplank,
I viewed from down the way,

The pier swayed to and fro anchored to the shore,
Ships mast with sails stowed,
Curious to know what is in the hold,

Watching crab and seagull fued,
Over semi-rotten sources of food,
A conflict not ever to be resolved,

My pack is full of tasty treats,
Umbrella open shading me,
A blanket rolled up designation of space,

I can remember these tender moments,
When I become old and frail,
I can tell these stories of the Waters Edge.

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