The Beach

By Jim Bates

Waves crashing on the shore,
Windswept sand blowing,
Dad with his camera,
Taking photographs.
I was barely aware of him.
Instead, I looked out to sea,
Over the pacific to the horizon and beyond,
To the infinite possibilities awaiting a young man.
Me, looking at the world,
Dad, framing his shots.
While in the magic of the moment,
I gathered sand dollars half hidden in the sand
Later, as the sun set,
Dad and I set aside our differences,
And walked into the last light of day,
And we started talking, really talking,
For the first time.
It was beautiful.

“I write to try and bring a bit of happiness to people.” – the poet

2 thoughts on “The Beach

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