Saturday, August 9, 2008

The Wave

I walk the sound.
Heels sink
into the sand
making deep and
temporary impressions.
It lays like sugar, soft
and warmed,
looking up at the sky,
pebbles on their backs
looking up at it too.
The tide rolls in;
egg white foam
blurts onto the sugar.
Seconds pass,
the sand can't breathe,
obscured by the salt,
a confusion of colours
and tastes
and sounds.
The wave turns away.
The sand is
no longer frothy powder;
compacted now
into something else.
Once that wave has rocked in
You can never go back.

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