We approach the counter;
expansive colors and flavors,
but we know what we want.
Red, blue and yellow; it tastes like vanilla,
but the colors, like touches of sunshine, just make it better.
We begin our trek back down the sand
toward the crashing waves;
squawking and screaming, diving and swooping,
from above, they invade.
Mine falls in agony,
and hers bleeds down her arm like syrup,
dripping off her elbow.
We run the short distance back up the sand,
though it feels like miles.
Our treasures were lost long ago
and the thieves were satisfied.
© Copyright 2016 Helene Lepee. All rights reserved.
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