Beach Walk

• Katie Kinnear, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2011

I trudge along my path, the sand squelching into every inch of my feet,
It feels nice for a change, from the concrete that holds my feet prison to the ground.
I stop for a moment and breathe slowly tasting the damp, cool air rustle on my tongue
and let my hair out of its messy up-do. The wind calms me and reminds me of times with my Dad,
who was lost in this watery wilderness. I come here alone, and only alone, and sometimes get lost myself.
If this were a park, it would be crowded, a pool, noisy, but as a beach it is lonesome, tired, calm, but to me,
it is perfect.
I pick up a deceased starfish and feel its roughness and wonder where this starfish came from.
Perhaps my Father saw it somewhere, washed up on a beach, maybe in Japan or Hawaii,
and threw it back to sea before it died. I hold the creature to my heart and imagine my Dad walking
along this same secret path.

I make my way home.