Brushing the sticky salt from sun punished skin
pulling fingers through stiff curls
running down to the edge to lookout for the fins
waves pull and rip and unfurl
Seagulls flip by in white winged spirals
the sea flashes bright tips
and there are a million tan boys and girls
doing somersaults and back flips
Plastic buckets hold in the beach
and sand castles are under construction
left only when the tides come and reach
and wash away their foundations, total destruction
The quiet spell as the sun drops into the sea
and the cool night rushes in
salt encrusts itself into th denim of my jeans
as I play in the surf 'til its too cold to swim
The next day at daybreak I run on the sand
bare feet sinking into each mold
the sweat drips hot down my back, to my hands
I ponder if I have ever felt the cold
Long nights of watching palms in day glow
and flamingos bathing in the neighborhood canals
here the warm and heat never goes
the sun flicks in and out like television channels
Long nights of italian ice and bicycle tires
flourescent cantinas murmuring
tantalizing sweet heat of backyard fires
sunburnt skin and dresses fluttering
The springtime serenade of the surf
midterm siestas sprawled in the sun
schoolwork is boring when life has this worth
of gemstone skies and hot aquatic funs
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Oh my god THIS is poetry.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful words, this is golden. You made my day.
My girlfriend is the best writer.