It's winter again.
Can't work out.
Why would I walk.
On,
This cold beach front sand.
Barefoot, I walk.
Enjoying the air.
Not a care in the world.
Smell the seaweed.
Feel the icy tide lap over my toes.
The thrill of the chill.

Look at the wet wood,
Drifted on to the shore.
Cracked so much.
It's looking sore.
Touch it.
Feel the heaviness.

Think, this wood is newly discarded.
Maybe from a shore side stroll .
The dog buried the wood just under the hole.

The vendors of sweet ices still pretend.
That shoreline's graced with sun.
It's not.
The only way to earn a crust.
That these poor folks have got.
Hear them discussing that trade is disgusting.

Debating a change in their wares.
Maybe just maybe nobody cares.
Burgers and hot dogs.
May make things better.
While the sand gets colder.
And it's very much wetter.

Winter sands so peaceful.
Only thing seen is the lonely dog walker.
Going to deposit the next piece of wood.
To drift of into the sea.


By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)