beach drowned

somewhere there I believe
my finger shaking
Blossom and I took a trip
to show my sandcastles,
the tidal pools and shells

she did a cartwheel
braids twirled
she pulled my hand
a cane fell in the dune grass

Blossom stood tall on top of that climbing frame
still, she couldn't find it

housing, parking shops
playgrounds, some green
a seawall defends this land now

I look towards my youth
waves break memories


This poem tells the story of a grandparent wanting to show the beach life of their youth to a grandchild.