POEM: The Beach

White sand.

Turquoise water.

Cloudless sky.

One hundred Fahrenheit.

I’m on the beach, soaking in the sun.

I lie down on the chaise lounge,

My body and my mind are completely at ease.

I have a book in my beach tote,

But I don’t feel like reading.

I am happy just to lie here for hours.

My skin is immune to sunburn,

I don’t mind the kiss of the sun.

I go into the water.

It’s warm and welcoming.

The bottom of the ocean feels like a soft blanket.

A crab bites my foot.

Sorry little fella,

I’ll get out of your way.

I swim away.

My favorite part of a tropical vacation is swimming into the vastness.

A fellow traveler warns me about the undertow,

But on this day the ocean is calm, peaceful, unthreatening.

I spend another good deal of hours in the water.

Give me a tropical beach, and I’m happy.

The sun on the shore of the Atlantic is all I want now.

I immortalize the beach on the camera.

I can’t help but take hundreds of pictures.

Way to brag on Instagram, hashtag #PerfectGetaway.

Hi, I’m Sunny, and I’m in love with the sun.

I never want to leave.

I would stay here forever.

I collect corals and shells from the bottom of the ocean.

The water is so clear that I spot them effortlessly.

I love listening to the songs of the ocean when I press a shell to my ear.

I get myself an impressive collection of oceanside souvenirs.

Will bring them home to decorate my living room.

Back home, I browse the photo album.

So long.

I go into my studio and start painting.

The beach is still in my head, the canvas comes to life.

The blue sky.

The turquoise water.

The white sand.

The perfect vacation.

Cuba

From my book of poetry Sunset in Toronto, page 187.