Sand Stories

As I sit upon the ancient sandWith the faithful sun aboveMy eyes relax in hypnotic calmAs the sea laps with eternal loveSwashing waves of tendernessPush up the satin shoreGentle hands of massageWhich glide down again once moreComfort's sigh infusesAs the sea does glint and danceWith salt-air in my nostrilsI merge into a tranceNo reflection of past or futureIntrudes my supine mindI am there with the watersWe ebb and flow c...

SummerWalking hand in hand.Two young lovers.Screach of gulls overhead.Stolen kiss.Giggles looking at the dunes.Love blowing in from out to sea.Blanket and basket in the boot.Top down hair blowing in the sun.Snoop on the radio.Back before dusk.Two young lovers.Summer.

My beach is beckoning. The tide is swimming in. With sand beneath my feet, Gazing out to sea, Breezes carry a kiss From your lips to me. Tides ebb and flow; Each day more will follow From my lips to yours To make a memory or two. On our sandy paradise, Hearts full of longing, With our tides rolling out; Seagulls soar. Summer breeze on our faces. This long passionate kiss; I will only need one. One day, I will gift you. Yo...

Kelsey arrived at the Fort de Soto Sand Art Competition at twenty past two. After spending the morning walking four miles of the beach’s coast and counting all the dead fish she saw, she wandered over to the competition to watch the artists. The crowd was mostly parents with young children, the moms and dads holding up the kids so they could see the adults playing in the sand. A bay area news team covered the event, the c...

Sand dunes alter their surfaces too soon, Nothing remains beyond a while, Winds keep working out miracles. Why do you look forward to lengthiness? Any length of time proves repetitive, A moment independent still goes a long way. Nothing remains beyond a while. No thing remains beyond a while. Sand dunes teach existential lessons.

The Boat of Sand When I was young, my Father built for me, a boat of sand, so very grand, to sail upon the sea. My sister was the cabin girl and made to swab the decks, we searched the seas for pirates to turn their boats to wrecks. Our anchor was a bucket filled with stones and sand, tossed with caution overboard, if we spotted land. Bright red spades were used for oars or cricket bats sometimes, we’d row for miles acros...

While walking by my old homeA grain of sand fell in my eyeAnd as I looked at the crumbling wallsAnd trees growing out of theOnce ‘lived in’ hallsI tried to let the memories pass byAnd my hands moved to rub my eyesMy son asked ‘Isn’t that your old home dadIs that why you cry?'I looked at him and the home that once was mineAnd hugged him and kissed him and wiped my eyesAnd to him I said‘Oh not to worry kiddoit’s just a grai...