(Edited 29/12/05)
The little girl sits on the beach,
Watching the waves run in and out.
Gently.
Lovingly.
The sand and the sea play with her,
Running through her hair,
Trickling through her toes.
Warmly.
Ticklishly.
One day, the waves run out.
And don't come back for a very long time.
The girl waits.
Anxiously.
Anxiously.
Finally, after touching all corners of the world,
The waves roll back.
Towering.
Crashing.
It turns the girl's lovely beach
Into quick, running sand.
She gets stuck in it.
Defiantly.
Willingly.
She will not admit her beloved beach
Has become revolting, slurry mud.
She will not leave it.
Sadly.
Foolishly.
But staying in the wet sand is perilous.
The little girl's skin becomes an old woman's skin.
Dirty.
Wrinkly.
She realises she cannot stay in the quicksand anymore.
She pulls herself up.
Strongly.
Resolutely.
She crawls to the grass yonder
And waits.
Patiently.
Patiently.
For the quicksand to dry up one day.
For it to become her dear beach once more.
Without effort, she gets out, panting and scratched.
She looks at the beach
Before trudging up the slope.
Reluctantly.
Resolutely.
For a better past time.
For a more enriching life.
Freely.
Happily.
2 comments:
Eh, ask her to go play at another beach la. The quicksand's not worth waiting for.
You're right, man. But she's only left with Changi Beach and West Coast Beach.
Haha, you know what, I think she'll change hobby instead. She'll get sunburnt from sitting on the beach for too long. Cycling?
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