My Beach


I open my eyes to the vast, glorious sight of the ocean.

The seemingly impenetrable, endless blanket of water stretches on and on,

And the waves ripple in a calm, soothing motion.

The dimming sun gradually descends, painting the sky, not returning ’til the first light of dawn.


I hear the water, the waves, and the sound of incessant, tranquil crashing.

The birds are calling in their foreign dialect.

Even the wind breathes in my ear as I listen to the quiet splashing.

The soothing lullaby that urges me to put all my troubles behind, it is perfect.


As I sigh with satisfaction, filling my lungs, I take in a breath of the clean, crisp air.

I get a whiff of the distinct aroma of salt and sea,

And I can barely catch the scent of fish in the breeze.

There is absolutely nothing like it, here on my beach where I am free.


The tang of salt is on my tongue, in the air, everywhere.

As I plunge into the waves, I taste the coastal surf, sodium chloride, sand in the whirlwind of water.

Every breath, every gulp, every whiff, has a saliferous sapidity.

There’s no escaping the ever prominent taste of salt in the pungent air.


I feel the burning sand underneath my feet, between my toes, and even grinding in my teeth.

The cold water runs across my toes, luring me in as I stroll along the winding shore.

I can even feel what’s left of the sun shining on my face.

The beach, my beach, turns silent and dark, as the sun disappears with grace.


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