First Wave
Old Tapes for New
The ocean waited there on the other side of the mountain till we took a trip to the beach the summer I was five. Mother was a Southern Belle* and never learned to swim. But she held my hand and we waded in together.
I grabbed my breath each time the water slapped her thigh and pushed me back and forth, to test my Mother's grip.
The last wave I remember, my first time in the sea, knocked us off our feet and slammed us down to face Strong sucking sand. She must have been so scared to have climbed on my back like that so she could get her breath.
*Disclaimer: My own Mother was a Yankee; she was a strong swimmer and made sure I was, too. This is a free verse poem about a powerful wave.
Sherry you really captured the view , from a five year olds perspective ,of the high tide and low tide in your art! So glad to read the disclaimer. 🥰Just so much talent coming from you, dear friend 🌊