The wind blows against the sand,
clouds rest above the bay
as the numbing water rushes against my hand.


We run to the land,
as the sun sets, ending the day.
The wind blows against the sand.


The seagulls fly above, screeching in unison like a band.
The waves crash along the way
as the numbing water rushes against my hand.


Water sprays as we run and pick up our towels from where we had lay. The wind blows against the sand.


The sky begins to darken, looking bland. The mud between my toes turns to clay as the numbing water rushes against my hand.

We ran
from the weather of may.
The wind blows against the sand
as the numbing water rushes against my hand.