Sunday, 16 December 2012

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.

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