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“The Beach”
She had her stereo,
Pumping out the music,
At full volume.
With the windows rolled down,
Weaving through the traffic,
Along U.S. 26.
The wind blowing through her,
Incredibly cute pixie haircut.
Her beautiful blue eyes,
Hidden behind a pair of,
Off the rack sunglasses.
As she yanks her car,
Out of the fast lane,
To catch her exit.
She’s still tapping on her steering wheel,
And bobbing her head to the music,
As she cruises some side streets,
Looking for an open parking spot.
She grabs her phone,
Off the passenger seat,
Plugs in her earphones,
And walks down the block to the beach.
She enjoys strolling along the beach front,
The small shops and quirky people,
Are like a break water,
Protecting the solitude,
Of the shoreline.
She kicks off her sneakers,
Once she gets down to the sand,
And places them under the stairs,
Of the beach access ramp.
She loves the feeling of the sand,
Under her bare feet,
As the sand goes from hot & dry,
To cold & wet,
As she gets nearer the water.
Today she’s wearing a pair of jeans,
That look like she was poured into them,
With a shirt so tight,
Every curve and line,
Of her body stands out,
Against the flat level background,
Of the sea.
For a woman deep into her 30’s
You’d swear she was,
No more than 25.
She finds an out cropping of rocks,
And climbs a top of one,
That had been dried by the sun.
She sits down,
Leaning back against another rock,
And stretches out her long legs,
As her eyes focus on,
An ocean buoy,
Rising and falling,
With every swell.
She spends an hour,
Letting her mind wander,
Far from any of her problems,
Or the crushing weight,
Of the daily grind of life.
Just watching the slow rhythm,
Of the buoy,
And the sea.
She begrudgingly gets up,
And wanders down the shore,
Passing a group of 20-somethings,
Playing and sitting around in the sand.
She gives them a lingering look,
That draws them all in like a magnet.
The boys following everyone,
Of her slow deliberate steps,
The girls jealous of her confidence,
And that special gravity,
She has about her.
Smiling,
She continues on down the beach,
Without ever giving them,
A second glance.
Fully aware of their eyes,
Soaking her up,
Along with the sun’s rays.
The waves,
Roll in behind her,
Then slide back into the sea,
With only a whisper,
Erasing her footprints,
Along with any cares she might have.
She takes a long look,
Beneath the sun,
Where the sky and sea meet.
Takes in a deep breath,
Of the salty ocean air,
And holds it for a second.
“Damn, I Love the Beach”.
And at least for that one little moment,
Her day felt as perfect and complete,
As any day could ever be...
For J.P.
Tom Allen…1-27-2017…
She had her stereo,
Pumping out the music,
At full volume.
With the windows rolled down,
Weaving through the traffic,
Along U.S. 26.
The wind blowing through her,
Incredibly cute pixie haircut.
Her beautiful blue eyes,
Hidden behind a pair of,
Off the rack sunglasses.
As she yanks her car,
Out of the fast lane,
To catch her exit.
She’s still tapping on her steering wheel,
And bobbing her head to the music,
As she cruises some side streets,
Looking for an open parking spot.
She grabs her phone,
Off the passenger seat,
Plugs in her earphones,
And walks down the block to the beach.
She enjoys strolling along the beach front,
The small shops and quirky people,
Are like a break water,
Protecting the solitude,
Of the shoreline.
She kicks off her sneakers,
Once she gets down to the sand,
And places them under the stairs,
Of the beach access ramp.
She loves the feeling of the sand,
Under her bare feet,
As the sand goes from hot & dry,
To cold & wet,
As she gets nearer the water.
Today she’s wearing a pair of jeans,
That look like she was poured into them,
With a shirt so tight,
Every curve and line,
Of her body stands out,
Against the flat level background,
Of the sea.
For a woman deep into her 30’s
You’d swear she was,
No more than 25.
She finds an out cropping of rocks,
And climbs a top of one,
That had been dried by the sun.
She sits down,
Leaning back against another rock,
And stretches out her long legs,
As her eyes focus on,
An ocean buoy,
Rising and falling,
With every swell.
She spends an hour,
Letting her mind wander,
Far from any of her problems,
Or the crushing weight,
Of the daily grind of life.
Just watching the slow rhythm,
Of the buoy,
And the sea.
She begrudgingly gets up,
And wanders down the shore,
Passing a group of 20-somethings,
Playing and sitting around in the sand.
She gives them a lingering look,
That draws them all in like a magnet.
The boys following everyone,
Of her slow deliberate steps,
The girls jealous of her confidence,
And that special gravity,
She has about her.
Smiling,
She continues on down the beach,
Without ever giving them,
A second glance.
Fully aware of their eyes,
Soaking her up,
Along with the sun’s rays.
The waves,
Roll in behind her,
Then slide back into the sea,
With only a whisper,
Erasing her footprints,
Along with any cares she might have.
She takes a long look,
Beneath the sun,
Where the sky and sea meet.
Takes in a deep breath,
Of the salty ocean air,
And holds it for a second.
“Damn, I Love the Beach”.
And at least for that one little moment,
Her day felt as perfect and complete,
As any day could ever be...
For J.P.
Tom Allen…1-27-2017…