The Beach

              

                         By Anya Rafa

In the sunny, sandy beach,

The sun, brightening every minute,

I can see:

Great green piles, of slimy seaweed,

Lumps of once great castles.

People surfing, swimming, too,

And kids, trying to hassle.

I can feel:

Icy blue water, tickling my toes,

Moist tan sand, under my now wet feet.

A mix of water and dirt, clinging to my hair,

Reminding me that the beach is always a treat.

I can hear:

Battling seagulls, screeching every second,

Like a never ending plea.

A rainbow of kites, soaring in the air,

All happening at the beach.

I can touch:

Sand coated shells, fresh from the deep,

Dry yellow sand, as soft as silk,

Bouncing balls, reaching for the sky,

And crashing waves, white as milk.