The sea tickles the sand with foamy fingers,

As the tide recedes to see a distant shore,

The horizon whispers of potential discovery,

Teasing a would-be explorer with open suggestion,

Whilst salt spray sprinkles over shells and lingers,

Glistening on sandy stones that otherwise ignore,

The flotsam that is their neighbour despite the symmetry,

Of their landing on the beach, which seduces my attention.



4 thoughts on “Beachcombing

  1. I loved the word craft in your poem. It took me right back to the beach. Hugs, Barbara

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