Talking Sands Poem by Greg Gaul

Here I lie reaching out to other sides
comforting sand surrounds me on every edge
foamy sea washes over me at night,
as the moon's blue light cools my outer body
at the break of day, the sun begins
its daily warming.

I've been here for decades, finished my turn at sea,
lain on many beaches before:
at Vesuvius, the lava scorched the beach, the sea boiled-
at Dunkirk, British soldiers fell-
on Bondi, I recall the crackling Aussie feet throughout the days,
and I was at First Dawn, as well.

Held close by the sand, it all comes back to me.
I will be the sand again one day soon.
The young gaze at me wondering
what I think and where I've been.

My story and yours, we are one.
Pick me up, I feel your touch.
Marvel at my ancient design,
my winding colors.

Peer into my spiraling chamber.
Hold me close to your ear.
Hear the voice of the sea.
Ponder what secrets I will reveal.
Muse the concept that you are me.