Low Tide

August 18, 2008
By Jenna D, Rowley, MA

The sand sleeps under my towel
As the sun kisses my arms
And burns my shoulders
Sand tickles my toes
And sticks to my wet feet
Wind caresses my face
And tussles my hair
Water licks at the shore
And salt bites my eyes
As the minnows beg to be caught
Seagulls ask obnoxiously above for my sandwich
Parched beach grass waves at the water longingly
The water maliciously crawls toward my sand castle
Crabs hurry to see the king before the castle is defeated
My makeshift flag waves angrily at the approaching water
The decorative shells scream in protest
As one final wave reaches up
And slaps the castle in its face
Just a mound in the sand
Shells, flag, and habitants scattered
The tide has come
Time for all to go home
The crabs to their underwater dwellings,
The seagulls to their perches
The silvery minnows to another shallow shore
And me back to my houseboat
Where I’ll be
Until I come back tomorrow
At low tide

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