Cinnamon coloured slingbacks dangle from her fingers,
as she searches the tide line for discarded gems.
A warm steady breeze whispers somewhere offshore,
but she turns her head in fear of sandy eyes.
...
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yep....................love it.........very descriptive............what I like is a story I can envision as I read along...................this did it for me. Thanks
Once again you have brought written images to life. Having 'her' retrive bottles with verses inside that 'were cast there by her own hand.' brings to my mind a whole range of youthful mystical idealism. Tossing a bottle in the surf in the hopes it is retrived by someone else is one thing. Getting a message back, or getting a new message from someone else who has 'cast' a bottle like you is another. The rest of you images leaves me to ponder further - -'firmer sand'? ? somewhere further from land, closer to the surf- -'blistered fingers'? ? from fishing her own messages from bottles she has tossed- - I'll be rereading and enjoying this one. Tom
A wonderfully visual narrative in which the landscape and mindscape are cleverly entwined. It's a hauntingly sad, slightly mystical peice which echoes the hush of the sea and imprints it's visuals on the mind. Beautifully observed and composed Bob. jz.