On a warm, sunny day,
The beach is loved.
The waves caress the shore,
The sun kissed sand will dance on the breeze,
And laughter is a song.
Children will bury the things they love
deep inside her pockets.
But the sun will move on to other sands.
The babes will dig up their things and go,
shaking out their pockets.
They will not dig their toes into her warmth
because they are asleep
clinging to his chest hair;
they won’t let go of daddy.
How they love their daddy.
At night no one loves the beach,
except the waves that beat her.
The grains harbor cold and everything hardens.
Now the moon, no longer the sun,
reigns the sky and enlightens
with a distant stare.
Your raging waves, your frigid moon, your children,
you are everything, everywhere.
But I am only one beach of many.
And when you are rough and harsh, I thicken.
I am a lover.
I am resistant.
At the height of the day’s heat,
my grains are dry and loose.
I still hide surprise sea shells inside your shoes.
I still smile when you kiss me,
When you breathe against my dunes.
But when night creeps on,
and that wind begins to bite,
a beach has no arms with strength
and no legs to walk away.
I am not crazy, I am a lover,
the beach is loved [only] on a sunny day.