Respect From The Scenery

The sand parts beneath my feet,
making way for my stance,
knowing that I am stronger.

The cool waves lap at my feet,
rushing over the skin,
knowing I need relief from the sand
that feels as hot as the sun.

The wind blows my hair backwards,
knowing I enjoy the slap of the strands.

The seagulls squawk at me,
knowing I don’t enjoy silence.

The beach respects me,
knowing what I need,
and what I don’t.

I am important here,
and the scenery agrees.