The Surf ...

We walked, hand in hand, into the brightly lit sea, towards a warm genial sun, that was starting to set, slowly turning itself crimson red.

We felt the sand, under our feet, soft and squishy,
We felt our toes, digging into the kindness of the sand,

The sea scrubbed us, with her gentle waves,
Salting our lips at times, splashing her playful froth at us.

We walked, deeper and deeper, into the surf,
The sea throbbed around us, giggling, laughing, gently rocking our bodies.

And when we felt like looking, the sun beamed at us,
Now red, and orange, and red, and almost drowning into the embrace of the waves.

The surf started from far, gently holding on to the hands of the wind,
shapeless at first, rolling, rising, creaking and gathering mass.
The wind pulled it on, the surf rose, like a newborn baby,
turned its head around and round, looked at the sun, in wonder.

The surf rose, in a large column of throbbing sea,
rolling into us, from far, coming near, around us.
The surf towered in front us, drooping down,
It looked into our eyes, hands held together,
eyes, in awe and delight.

The surf jumped down onto us, from the sky.
dwarfing our jumping bodies,
rolling us over with it, embracing us,
covering us with salt, and froth, and a blanket of sea.

We fell, we kicked, we felt its fingers running,
across our bodies, its waves, throbbing our hearts,
We rolled, under the sea, as it pushed us.

...

The surf returned.
I looked at her.
She was smiling, scared and full of glee.
I looked at the sun.
He was smiling, kind and amused.