Wet Sand
The sand’s cold as we dance upon the grains
While we glide across, the grains get between
my toes distracting me from the dancing
Another gust of wind blows and a chill
runs down my spine. How could I not wear a
jacket? But we continue to dance.
George is lovely for taking me out but
All I want is to be at home in front
Of the fire. Sitting on our black leather
Couch while the sparks from the flames shoot out in
A rainbow of red orange and yellow.
I’ve always been a bit obsessed with fire.
As a child I would sit in front of the
fire and watch until its last breath. When
all the kindle was burned and nothing was
left but ash and my warm face hoping for
it to be reborn like a new phoenix.
another gust of wind pulls me back into
the dance. George’s strong hand is on my low
back guiding me, pulling me closer to
him. A seagull flies overhead and I
hear its song. Not as pretty as a blue
jay but I appreciate it the same
I wish I could be a seagull. The beach
is one of my favorite places to be
Being a seagull all you do is live
at different beaches. Fly each day to find
a better beach than the old ones before.
I would love to be free like the birds, flying
But I’ll be a flightless bird on the ground
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