The waves come running to you,
happy to see you.
Eager to present you with a gift they dug up,
from the bottom of the seabed.
They come again and again,
in an attempt to appease.
The wind tugs,
like and impatient child,
at your hair, your clothes.
not quite sure what.
The sticky feeling of salty air,
the burning sunshine.
Warm sand thats intrusive,
and likes the hide in unlikely places.
Sea gulls in mid air,
frozen still in their attempts to fly.
Lazy gulls that fly but dont flap,
looking out beadily for crumbs.
Static gulls, posing for perfect photos,
Children with spades and buckets, digging.
Building castles, being taught to write names in sand.
Babies toddling around, dropping and getting up unhurt,
wading into water and returning with soggy nappies.
Old people with books, hats and suncream,
young people with music and fashionable swimgear.
Endless white sand and green water,
long lazy walks,
with sand between your toes,
and sea shelss in your hand,
eyes scrunched up against the sand,
hair messed with the wind,
and a smile...