|Wright Beach, Pacific Ocean|
Peering through a lens I see saltwater sprays,
Vultures spread-winged and soaring,
Diamonds dancing on the blue.
I pull back and see kites that won't fly,
But sand that does,
Artwork created for the water to wash away.
We drive in to the small, sea-side town,
A treasure in a small store off the turn,
And, as always, today is a good day for some taffy.
Through the finger-printed panes I see a sky,
It never meets the water,
But blurs into rippling waves and blue lines of static.
But the sun will set tomorrow too,
And my stomach still aches from the laughter.
Not a dusty blue book on a shelf,
No papers strewn on a countertop,
No worries about who to be when the sun rises in the morning.
Written in response to The Write Prompts