poem about the beach

butterfly stretches out on hand
fish ploip and catch surface bugs

water tickles the sides of shells
sunlight plays the melody of colour
unpredictable beat of wave

overstimulated dogs scream excitedly at unmedicated children who squeal at the flood of their own senses
teens take on the duties of suntan lotion and napping

too many couples stroll and pick up that perfect shell
emblem of the day, their love
proof

It is cold. I miss the beach. The beach I grew up going to was hit by Hurricane Ike this year.