THE HOLIDAY

Shimmering water beckoned
As we drove to a remote corner by the dunes.
Pitching our tent upon sand of silken grains
That flowed smoothly when we dipped in its depths.

Each morning we’d burst from the tent
As the sun balanced haphazardly on the horizon.
Its rays spearing the shadowy dunes
Then mother would call us for breakfast.
 
By day we swam in water that sparkled
Oblivious to clouds gathering in distant corners.
Father would keep watch for the midday tide
Mother would open the picnic hamper.

Father set aside his watch as the days swung by
In rhythm with the ever changing shadows.
When the sun beamed low upon a nearby tree
Mother would call us for tea.

By night we played snap or fish
Huddled together in the flickering glow.
And when our shadows fell languidly in ribbons
Father would signal goodnight.