Poetry On Odyssey: When The Beach Sets

When The Beach Sets

The scarlet sun kissing its reflection. The Multi-colored sky darkening over the gray-green waters. My white dress dancing with the waves as I walk further into the deepness. A powerful breeze surrounds me, lifting the hair off my neck and soothing my back. The skin on my stomach crawls at the expecting cold from the ocean's touch. The winds fade, leaving my curls to cascade over my shoulders, restoring the warmth. Gazing upon the dark sun as it tints my skin with its orange hue.

While I stood in admiration, a sudden sadness overcame me. Why does this have to leave? Ice levels are dropping. Water levels are rising. What can I do? I am just one person, I have little impact. The world is informed, but it does not react. We complain with distaste about the throwing of waste.

The earth spins toxic waits. It sits in the sky waiting to strike. Or rather... We welcome it to come. We predicted its day but do not prepare for the stay. The news is still on square one. Still informing. Public already knows. The issue is not forcing the non-believers eyes to open. The issue is saving our future. If we lit up our homes, we also get burned. Though we are on the right track. If we do not move, eventually we get hit by the train and say it was all a mistake.

I plunge. The cold tickles my face. My hair sways with the currents. I send a cloud of sand behind me as I swim into the blue. My muscles tighten as they push forward. Blindingly searching for a gift from the sea with my fingers until my lungs began to burn. I surface. My lungs instinctively fill with the salt-scented air. My hair is heavy with water and my flesh silky wet. Walking back to the dry land without caring about the sand between my toes, wet dress, or sloppy hair. I have stolen a token, a seashell, to remember this time.