The perfect day at the beach

The waves whispering on the shore

Transporting shells calling for me

to come show my mum

The magical print with a gift sent from above

The sand blistering my feet

Each step stabbing,

Leaving their toes feeling

Like millions of sparklers

As lunch time hits the smell of salty yellow deliciousness

Runs through my nose…and then my mouth

Leaving grease lathered all over their lips

and piles of salt lying in the box

After lunch the sun starts to die down

Trying to get my last perfection of a swim

Before Ms Trunchbull yells at us to come back in.

‘It is getting too cold’ apparently.

The sun is falling to the ground, making each second colder than the other

So we snuggled up watching the sky burst into reds and yellows.

Giving each of us a comforting hug

This is the perfect day at the beach