We were dropped off by our parents
At a lake to swim in
Soft sand and sharp rocks
Mixed in the shores
But a gentle tide all the same
We swam far, going into the water,
But never above our necks.
We playfully splashed each other
And joked about sticks we found
On the floor of the lake,
It’s water clear as glass,
Until our time ran out
And we had to leave the lake
The ocean is primordial.
Vast.
Fickle in mood and temperament.
One hour it’s gently rocking you
With its cold, soft waves.
The next, it’s slamming you against the rocks,
Its white-capped waters spraying into the windy air,
But it’s always so, very beautiful,
At least from the shore.
I thought we had more time in the lake.
But it seems everyone has to go out to sea
And I’ve kept the ocean waiting for far too long.
Or maybe the inverse.
I hope it’s as beautiful in the water
As it is from the shore.
Neil is an ascending high school sophomore and young writer at the time this was published. He hopes to one day write a fantasy novel or series.
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