How to feed your soul
The sound of the waves as they ebb and they flow,
As they foam around your feet;
They dance, majestically, they turn your toes cold
In the early Autumn sun.
The coarse sand rubs against my skin,
Slothing off the rough edges,
The wind does the same to my
Hayfever season is done and dusted,
Must be a head cold lurking,
It won’t last long, it won’t take hold,
This fresh air’s as good as any medicine.
Looking out on the horizon,
There’s sea as far the eye can see,
A big expanse of saltiness
That fills your soul with peace.
A beautiful place, rain or shine, wind or snow,
There’s something about a beach,
Coarse of not,
That cleanses, invigorates, rubs away any rough edges.
By Carol Cameleon
poems in #WonderfulWorldofWriting
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