remember as a child, you'd go to the beach
smothered in suncream that smelt of peach
running off before it was all rubbed in
don't care about sunburn, just means a pink chin.
scratchy grains clinging to your arms and your feet
entirely complacent, the weather is sweet
ahead is the sea, so excitingly cold
who cares about taxes or growing old.
in the sea the grains float away
my skin is free, the sand astray
the sea is so enticing and blue
oh how its favours,
to remind me of you