Saturday, 29 December 2012

Word pictures are beautiful too

Sometimes I cannot decide if I love paint or pen best.  


On the beach

The sand on my skin
Distorts my perception of myself,
Transforming me
into 
everyone else.

Noise, 
audacity like gulls.
Build the castle higher.
Make it prettier.
Dig the hole deeper.

Insistent voices
as I dig in the sand.
To no avail.
The rain softly pads on the grains.
A child falls on the castle.
The tide fills the hole.

The Ocean has sought me out.
Waves,
Cool, refreshing, lingering,
Washing sand from skin.

Revealing my true appearance.

The Ocean calling to me.
Swim, child, swim.
You were made to swim.

Shelly Beamish Dec 2012


Written as I begin to reflect on the possibility and hope of a new year.  


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