Wet sand_BG 35_Texture 72

You just wait and see. She’ll come soon enough. I guarantee it.

She’ll come, in her white dress, just like she always does after it’s rained, and bathe in us, squeeze us between her toes, roll us between her hands, smother us with her body, her legs, her arms, her chest.

She’ll roll and roll, and slap her hands against us until we’ve latched onto her hair, nestled into her toenails, clung to her lips. She’ll wipe us all over her body and throw us around until her dress is wet and brown and clinging to her and we’re part of it, part of her.

You just watch. She’ll destroy all the footprints in her way, flatten our furrows and channels, and we’ll feel her soft skin and scratch against it, embed ourselves in her and feel her happiness, her joy.

I know. I’ve seen it. I’ve been part of her bliss before, trapped in a fleshy nook between her fingers feeling warm and wanted, until I dropped wet from her and back down in a clump eager for more.

I dried when the sun came out, dried and was blown about by the wind and threatened by the tide until the rain came again and I settled and she returned.

You just wait. She’ll be here soon enough and, if we’re lucky, we’ll go with her, leave the beach and everyone else and find a new home, a home free of the endless buffeting of the currents and the tides and the uncaring wind.

She’ll come. I know she will and she won’t let me fall back to the beach this time.

She wants me just as much as I want her.


4 thoughts on “Redgrove Wet Sand Beach

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