Stepping onto the sun-warmed sand
Littered with pebbles, dried flotsam and shells,
Hearing the calls of the distant gulls,
The rhythmical breath of the breaking waves
And smelling the smell of the good old sea,
Time suddenly stops then twists for me
And I am become a boy again
Not seven years old and everything
Is new and fresh and clean:
The world is young and sparkling,
Unlimited like the sea
And best of all it seems to be —
It all belongs to me.
a good thing, staying near the sea. marvelous beauty in this work, Peter. -Tailor
Gorgeous. I was at the seaside yesterday and thanks to you, I've just been again today. Hugs Anna xxx
How beautifully you have placed the thought that a sight, a sound, a smell can carry us right back to our childhood. I love being reminded of MY childhood, when all the world was mine for the taking. Perfect, Pete!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love poems about the seaside, sea sun and sand. Wonderful write, adored reading it. Just lovely. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX