The crashing sounds of the waves as it hits against sharp jagged rocks
Brings me back to a time and a place my memories have not forgot
Of sparkling blue Water, clear to its depth
Schools of fish encircling each other
Swimming in beautiful synchronicity
The paleness of the Moonlight as it glimmers
Down upon dark sands
Made so by the darkness of the Night
It's hard grains boring into barefoot
Seeping in between toes and oozing its warm wetness
Children's laughter as they frolic in its inky blueness
As Night draws near the faraway cries of the seagull
Echoes aft into the horizon
Wings flapping in wondrous bliss
Fish filled their gulls
The Day's catch
And for a moment I am transfixed
I breathe deeply of the salty, raw, air, and sighs of gratitude
I stare out upon horizon
The wind whips my hair around solemn face
I turn as a voice yells from the distant hills
Time to come home
As I lay upon my bed of cotton green, blue,
my mind wanders back to a place so very far off
But sweet still
My eyes bear the mark of the wizened old
Yet my mind heart and my memories are of youthful bliss
I hear the call of the seagulls as clearly as if I were standing there
And my Mothers voice as it sweetly intones from way atop the rocky mound
Child, it's time for you to come home
And as I turned my eyes that once saw as a Child
To be one with the place I've always called home
It harkens upon a time never to be again
As I close my eyes in final slumber.
This was written in 2012 Standing on the rocks of Helshire beach, my home was no where close, but I always envisioned a house on the little mound of dirt by the water. My Mother worked as a Waitress and sometimes she would take my Sister and I to work. She would point to the sand and tell us about buried treasures indicating that we should go play digging in the sand and try to find some.
Disclaimer: Words over time changes in meaning. It is a Generational Cycle, Poetry or prose's are written in Language that is or was commonly spoken during a particular generation and as such may be subject to interpretation that's flawed. Poetry does not always speak to an individuals personal experience, often times it's imagery or in the case of a Poem words that rhyme,
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