Tuesday 27 March 2012

Widmouth Bay - Samantha Boarer


A dark sky rolls in
over yellow sands,
the rain piercing the sea.
The grassy waves overlook
the beach and when I lick
my lips I taste salt.
When I breathe deeply
the clear air runs through me
like blood and cleanses my veins.
I blink through bleary,
rain covered eyes at the
brave white legs that
bound into the sea.
The wind whips my hair
and I can smell my mother
cooking bacon in the van.

The darkness clears
but the wind stays,
taking our kite with it
as it blows across the bay.
My father is pulled along
by it’s four meters.
I stay close, with
fear and excitement
tightening in my chest.

I follow the streams
in the sand to the sea
and pause.
Feet sinking in the sand,
hiding from the harsh sea
that still bites at my ankles.
Surfers run past, braver than I,
to greet with the icy water.
A dog splashes after a stick,
nostrils flaring as he
sniffs the unfamiliar air.
I look out to the horizon
then close my eyes,
trapping the soft yellow of the sun
under my eyelids.

By Samantha Boarer

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