“It’s too late for the beach.”
We waddle our way down the dock
not having a single thought.
The sky is not clear
and the chattering of people make it hard to hear.
What are we listening for?
What are we looking for?
The crashing of waves are not soft,
and the wind shouts in my ears.
The city lights make my eyes hurt,
and the once grey sky is now just dark.
What are we doing here?
What makes us stay?
The music that you play from afar on the bench,
the crashing waves will assist.
No stars in the sky,
but we have the city lights to guide.
The wind carries your tottering head.
Sleepiness gets in mind.
The indistinct chattering becomes louder again,
and people will say
“It’s too late for the beach.”
1 Comment
Dania A.
Wow, I love this! I like how you repeated the first line at the end as well!
September 20, 2021 at 9:44 pm