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.
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