United States
42° 24' 53.568" N, 71° 10' 28.4088" W

I miss the days when
the ocean licked my ankles
and speckled sand
bit my toes.
I miss seaweed
swimming through my legs
and clinging to my bathing suit
like a small child
to her mother.
I miss the current
tugging on my water tube,
enticing me to join the waves;
those rippled, peaceful streaks of nature
that ebb and flow everywhere,
and nowhere through the sea.
I miss the Ocean’s Whisper in my ears;
confessions only audible
to those who listen
and a murky, salty underworld
only visible
to those who believe.
I miss digging through the sand,
looking for lost treasures,
and picking through sun-dried seaweed
to save as many starfish
as I can.
I miss the sun
glinting on the water’s surface;
glittering like gloss on fresh lips,
begging to be kissed.
I miss chasing my Chihuahua
through the rocks,
dipping her paws into the sea,
and frolicking up and down the shore
to wherever her nose leads her.
I miss ham and cheese on wheat;
the Ocean’s favorite lunch,
which happens to give
a whole new meaning
to “sand-wich”.

I miss hunting for the reflection
of a beautiful woman
beneath the sloshing waves,
where Mother Nature waits
patiently to be found.
I miss falling off my boogey board
and tumbling through the sand
as five foot waves crash overhead.
I miss the cool wind on my shoulders
leaving sand on my skin
and mystery in its passing.
I miss carving my name
into the wet sand along the shore
and watching the tide sneak up to
whisk it out to sea.
I miss the fishy smell of low tide,
when marine life leaves it scent
for land life to explore.
I miss the flaming sunshine
on my forehead
and beads of sweat
sliding down my skin,
and frigid water hugging my thighs
because the truth is, I hate the heat.
I miss the crispy pages of literature
under my sandy fingers
and the chilly aftertaste
of cola.
I miss the sand fleas at sunset,
when the tide is low
and warm tidal pools
are left exposed
and the pesky mosquitoes
constantly beg for another bite.
I miss watching the sky
as the sun goes to rest,
and the cornucopia of colors
it leaves behind.
I miss making sandy footprints
with my family and my dogs
in matching stride,
but I know that when
I come back next year
when I return to Manomet beach
my footprints will still be here,
fresh beneath my feet.


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