This morning the sun reminded me of that house
Waking up at 4 am
The gold cutting through the clouds
The subtle breeze
The birds calling in the distance
The quiet, rhythmic sound of the waves
As the tide comes in
The crunch of the sand and small shells under my feet
The cool water around my ankles
The warm sun streaming through the window
The ache in my heart when I think of waking up in that room
Although it's winter in New York
When the sun was blurred by the foggy clouds this morning
It gave me a sense of longing for Summer
For Maine
For that house and the beach
For those sensations and that all-too familiar ache
The tide pulling at you
The chill of the water
The crashing of the waves
The serene and perfect-ness of it all.
I miss the beach.