frolicking wavesand calming silence
the salty tang of air
Leaping dolphins
so carefree
and the sea breeze
catching my hair
rippling glossy midnight
just like in the moviessandy lava scorchs toes
the smell of sunblock permeates
and to make matters worse
the salt's gone up my nose
lulling waves lure me in
then crash upon my head
wet grit in places it shouldn't be
and hair is simply a scraggly damp nest
we were in Hawaii
flowing fabric caressed
driving around the island
no circles on the mapthe buttcrack of dawn
and there were chickens
and boy, the roosters were screaming
I wondered if they pooped in the sandsoft sunrise haloed our heads
dawn, the rebirth of the sun
running to embrace soft waveslukewarm water and squishy sandhiking up my summer dress
a big wave came crashing in
and my beautiful flowered skirt
was completely soakedJagged obsidian rocks
Careless decoration
remnants of a god's fiery temper
liquid rage cooledWhipping out cameras
like the tourists we are
tried at least 10 times
for a decent jump picturean hour in our salty cerulean haven
the imperfect perfection we stumbled upon
wishful imagination a sort-of reality
the salty tang of air
Leaping dolphins
so carefree
and the sea breeze
catching my hair
rippling glossy midnight
just like in the moviessandy lava scorchs toes
the smell of sunblock permeates
and to make matters worse
the salt's gone up my nose
lulling waves lure me in
then crash upon my head
wet grit in places it shouldn't be
and hair is simply a scraggly damp nest
we were in Hawaii
flowing fabric caressed
driving around the island
no circles on the mapthe buttcrack of dawn
and there were chickens
and boy, the roosters were screaming
I wondered if they pooped in the sandsoft sunrise haloed our heads
dawn, the rebirth of the sun
running to embrace soft waveslukewarm water and squishy sandhiking up my summer dress
a big wave came crashing in
and my beautiful flowered skirt
was completely soakedJagged obsidian rocks
Careless decoration
remnants of a god's fiery temper
liquid rage cooledWhipping out cameras
like the tourists we are
tried at least 10 times
for a decent jump picturean hour in our salty cerulean haven
the imperfect perfection we stumbled upon
wishful imagination a sort-of reality
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