MY MAGICAL POTION
BY FIONA CUMMINGS
Standing on the edge of the salted water
A perfect picture I can’t falter
Before my eyes
I can’t disguise
The miracle before me
Sand moves beneath my feet
A fisherman is sitting on a rock
Our eyes they meet
The ocean he will not defeat
For fear he has a block
His features show sour rather than sweet
With rugged lines
He’s obviously been here many times
For what? Just to eat?
His tattered clothes and brown paper bag face
But he knows his place
This is his home
Why bother to roam?
This is a peaceful zone
I see four skies
And don’t even have to try
There’s no concrete blocking my vision
I take my position
And breathe in the air
For a while I lose the fisherman’s stare
But I don’t care
As beautiful breeze blows through my hair
I bend to pick a stone
Hold it in my hand
It’s covered in sand
How far will it float?
To a new land?
As the small pebble skims
Kissing fins
Clashing through shells
Shaped like bells
I get a feeling I have been here before
But had to come back for more
The smell of salt
Makes my heart melt
It’s pure out here
I have no fear
Wrongly so perhaps
As I’m hypnotised by laps
The ocean is touching the sky
Creating an allusion I can clime
Or even fly
That sky is mine
As it’s in reach
Look at this magical beach
Colours of greys, blues and greens
This is different to rivers, lakes, or streams
For the ocean is a monster when it decides
For the wrecks it can really hide
The salted carpet covers up the truth
A perfect canopy for a roof
To all the SeaWorld
Shattered rocks so gold
White waves so bold
But a land we can’t meld
It’s never still
That is the thrill
The sounds are amazing
Like a roaring fire blazing
The big wide ocean
My magical potion
Copy right 2014
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