The cool breeze.
The comforting warmth of the sun on my face.
The aroma of sunscreen and sea salt fills my nostrils.
The distant sound of children's laughter.
The deafening sound of the waves crashing onto the soft, yellow sand.
The bright blue sky and midnight blue water, and the line that separates them; as if they are two separate colors of paint on one canvas, running into and mixing with the other.
Another wave crashes.
The water reaches and stretches out as if to say, "Come swim in me!"
It finally reaches me, and softly caresses my toes with it's cool comforting arms.
I shiver.
The water retreats back into itself solemnly, pleading with me once more to join it.
This time, I accept.
My feet pound against the sun-heated sand.
They long for the cool caress of the water once again.
I stop at the edge of the water.
Torturing myself.
The coolness finally splashes lightly against my toes.
Relief.
Memories flood back.
I'm a child again.
Standing in the same spot.
Staring into the same distance.
I'm free.
I smile to myself, and start my descent into the coolness.
Every inch of my body rejoices.
Finally cool.
The feel of the cool foamy waves as they crash around me.
Friendly.
Comforting.
Everything I've longed for, even without knowing how much I wanted it.
How much I needed it.
But now I know.
I know where I belong.
I belong here with my friend.
My friend, the ocean.
I sigh, and begin to head back up the shore.
I step onto the hot sand once again.
My now-hot feet protest.
My body protests.
I protest.
But I know it's time to leave.
Because I am not a child anymore, no matter how I felt while in the waves.
And adults have things to do.
Places to be.
And I have never hated anything more in my entire life.
YOU ARE READING
Life of a Lonely, Wandering Soul
PoetryThis is a series of poems I, Brianna French, have written. The are completely original, and I would appreciate it if you didn't steal them. Thank you SO much for reading! I am 13 years old as of now, but I will be 14 in the July of 2013. Please feel...
