
On fine August days
the beaches are full
of bodies seeking refuge
from everyday.
There they dream
of fairy tales and such
and build castles
though they know the sea
will sweep them away.
Yet they build
again and again
with laughter in their tears.
And they hope.
Life –
they learn.
There, on a fine day
kites would fly. High!
Troubles would drift
with the ebbing tides.
Souls would be lost
inside their dream
until the setting sun
chased their shadows home.
And the sand on their skin
would tell –
“everything was real.”
Lovely.
Thanks. 🙂
How very true – love that perspective!
Beautiful!!! And I LOVE the last four lines… Probably some of the most poethic words I have read lately!!!
Wonderful words and photo, Imelda! Brought back happy beach memories! 🙂