Poem Scribbled on a Clifftop

Spring sun beats down
on my face, waves crash
below
it’s easy to kid ourselves
that summer is nearly here
as we go barefoot in the water.
Up here, the wind is on
my face
my shadows lengthen
seagulls screech up above
and out at sea the water
rocks back and forth.
There is still a chill in the air
and two hopeful surfers bob
out at sea, watching the waves
waiting for the perfect break.
I climb and climb
Until the people on the sand
Are like pin heads.

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I Was Here

 

To be the first to walk across the golden

sand in the morning, to leave a footprint

pressed into the sand like a memo

I was here

as the sun beams down

and the quiet, golden silence

of the morning is a secret held

by me alone, imprinted on my mind,

my shoes dangling at my side

sand clinging to my wet feet,

and I wish, that I was there again.