Description: I'm writing more than ever and I love it! :)
York Beach, Maine -------------------------------------------
The ocean’s sweet mist rose in the
hot July air. That morning we woke
in New York City, where taxi cabs
were still honking through traffic.
The waves crashing against the rocks
provided a different silence. We sat
in beach chairs meant for hotel guests.
I breathed Maine air. Your air. We
were one more mile closer. But on that
beach in Maine, sitting in chairs not
meant for us, it already felt like home.
I just liked how you were one place and then BAM you were in another place and that first place seemed so long ago and the beach seemed like home. It's kinda like my whole move from texas back home. and there is really nothing like Maine air on the coast...thats for sure. have a good one!!
niec little write here. i like the the last part especially, taking possesion of the chairs. i also like the contrast btw ny and maine. my only nits would be find other words for 'sweet (line 1) and 'hot' (line 2).
why has this not got any comments? i wonder sometimes at this site, passing over gems like this...
i really do.
i love everything about this: the imagery, the associations, the love you feel for this person: all qualities which i admire and try to express in my own way, too.
"The waves crashing against the rocks
provided a different silence."
simply stunning, yet simple. and easily digested.
concise yet sweeping.
personal yet universal.
don't change a thing.
Submission Name: York Beach, Maine
