A walk down the beach

June 4, 2009
It was early in the morning,
As we walked hand in hand
While we felt the squishing of the sand
The cold burned my skin,
Almost like crabs pinching me.

The tide was low enough to see the algae and shell filled rocks
You could hear the whooshing and smashing of the waves
Hiding in the rocks,
Is a big, beautiful, swirling pink shell
And when I hold it to my ear I can hear the waves crashing
On the pretty white sand.

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