My Beach House

A gentle breeze, fluoro lights, old lounge chairs. Not much to see, A red and brown rug. Our house isn’t much, but it's been around. Blue carpet, white walls, bunk beds, leopard-print sheets, camp chairs in the kitchen, hammock on the deck, roos on the lawn, through the glass door sings the ocean’s song. The path out the back leads to the bush, as we arrive many memories pass by, boogie boarding along the coast, racing down the shore searching for seashells midnight walks alongside the sands, the new moon comes out to see, what a hullabaloo we are making to arise the cities from afar (a 20-minute drive), sparkle and thrive under the night sky. But, my retreat is no more, just a house by the beach, no longer mine, no longer ours, we will miss our beach house, but we will remember the great memories, so all we can do in return is say, thank you.