My pale skin had turned lobster,
tender to the touch.
The day was being born,
rays of a rising sun peeked through the blinds of my balcony.
Sweet sounds of waves and
gentle winds.
Children's toes
dug into grey sands
as salty water stung eyes.
I rolled out of bed.
To do what I could,
what every man should,
And drank the warm beer
sitting on my nightstand.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 5:27 PM UTC
My pale skin had turned lobster,
tender to the touch.
The day was being born,
rays of a rising sun peeked through the blinds of my balcony.
Sweet sounds of waves and
gentle winds.
Children's toes
dug into grey sands
as salty water stung eyes.
I rolled out of bed.
To do what I could,
what every man should,
And drank the warm beer
sitting on my nightstand.
