Red chipped roads cause discomfort to the barefoot but build thick skin to the sole. Paths marked with years of bike skids and scraped knees, engraved with initials of summer’s friendships and romance, pave their way to the beach. Before the beach, prickled grass acts as a minefield. Take one wrong step and you’re caught out. Past the minefield and up the hill, the ocean sparkles. Waves whisper and hush, inviting you through nature’s language. Drawn towards the sea like the tide draws out, you cannot resist the magnetic pull of the ocean. The beach is a playground, decorated in sandcastles and seaweed. Children play and laugh, meanwhile the ocean still calls. Hot sand is the next obstacle, quick footsteps are relieved by the shallow water. In the shallow, pipis wriggle beneath your toes. Tomorrow’s dinner. The water is cool, a contrast to the heat of the sand and the sun. Away from the flags, the ocean is quieter. Raging rips wait to target the naive, but the knowledge of past summers keeps you wary. The brave dare to dance in the deep, past the sandbar and where the wave’s break. The ocean is comforting, powerful yet gentle. After hours of swimming and too many mouthfuls of salty water, your body aches. Fatigue overcomes you and it is time to go home. The hot afternoon sun is gone, replaced by the cool evening breeze. Your body shivers and chatters as you walk home, withdrawal effects from the drug of the ocean.
Smoke from the wood fire is comforting, warm. As your body aches from the hours spent in the sea,
Summer’s sunset of pink and orange
Heat radiates off the red; blurred and rising.
Recent Comments