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Poetry from within
   

As I step upon the sand


As I step upon the sand,

I cant help myself leave a print of my hand

I leave behind with each step I take

All my worries while I enjoy my break



To feel the warm wet grains ooze up between my toes

From the depths of me, my soul glows



Climbing over boulders and rocks

In my pockets my rolled up socks

Small starfish and crabs, and on rocks, barnacle

Each small discovery to me a miracle



I found wondrous things in pools at low tide

Then show my folks with a lot of pride



The surf lapping at the beach

The grass covered sand dunes it cannot reach

Where others are having fun up and down the shore

Running out of the water, then turning back for more



Beckons me to paddle with squeals of delight

But that first cold wet contact gives me a fright



There is another pastime to enjoy and explore

The making of majestic castles, at least one maybe more

Vast keeps of old rise up from the soft grains of sand

Such massive structures with motes, how grand



It is wonderful fun to see the structures grow

And then watch the water in the mote flow



A few other things must be done at the seaside

Fish and chips and ice creams must be tried

For some a flake pushed in the top is a must

But for all on that warm sunny day itís a treat I trust



No matter how fast you lick, melted cream run down the cone

And you will definitely get brain freeze right down to the bone



For some there is the pull of the penny arcade

Where tiny fortunes are lost and made

With flashing lights and things to win

Walking out with armfuls of stuffed toys with a grin



There is pinball and bingo and arcade game

But once you have been in one, the others are the same



There is something that most of us at some time have got

The humble, rolled multi coloured and flavoured seaside rock

With words like Blackpool and Great Yarmouth in the middle

How they put them there has always been quite a riddle



a plain bit of seaside rock, nothing can beat

trying to peal off the label in such blistering sticky heat



Over time I did start to see the beauty of our coast

In places remains can be seen, left like a ghost

Vast vistas of seas and Cliff tops

Down to the micro environments between the Rocks



Our shores are precious and unique to our lands

Every stone, fossil, seal and grain of sand


Chris Duncan