I walk across the beach,
the sand burning my sensitive skin.
the salty taste in the air is unforgettable.
as I walk toward the wet sand,
the burning sensation growing,
I picture myself here as a child,
wishing I could warp time.

I am awakened from my daydream,
by the wet sand
that relieves my burning skin.
the pain that is with me
washes away,
like the waves lapping on the shore.

I look at the part of the ocean
that I am standing in,
and immediately think,
continental shelf.

I am reluctant to hear my mother
call my name,
but I answer her call.
I take one last look
at the ocean,
painted in front of me
like pastels on a canvas,
and walk away.

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Author guidance for This poem

I wrote this a while ago. Just thought I'd post it.

updated Oct 2 '11 by LouisaJo