Magic Beach - Alison Lester

At our beach,
at our magic beach,
we swim in the sparkling sea,
surfing and splashing
and jumping the waves,
shrieking and laughing with glee.

Wild white horses are thundering past,
racing to get to the land,
plunging and prancing and tossing their heads,
then fading away on the sand.

At our beach,
at our magic beach,
we play in the sand for hours,
digging and building,
with buckets and spades,
invincible castles and towers.

The king and queen are trapped in the moat,
a dragon is spitting out flames.
Princess Belinda is charging the beast
to rescue little Prince James.

At our beach,
at our magic beach,
we search in the clear, warm pools,
peering at starfish,
limpets and crabs,
and tiny fish darting in schools.

Into the Kingdom of Fishes we go,
riding on sea-dragons' tails.
Angelfish ferry a cargo of pearls
past creeping convoys of snails.

At our beach,
at our magic beach,
we walk when it's cloudy and grey,
looking for driftwood,
feathers and shells
washed up on the edge of the bay.

A leather-bound chest with buckles of brass
lies tossed on the sand by the tide.
As we push back the lid we are dazzled by light
from the glittering treasure inside.

At our beach,
at our magic beach,
we rock in the tangerine boat,
paddling out to the end of the line,
then drifting back to the float.

The wind fills our sails as we follow the sun,
and the look-out's eyes are keen.
We'll navigate over the edge of the world
to islands where no-one has been.

At our beach,
at our magic beach,
we laze on the jetty and wait,
watching the watery shadows below
for something to nibble the bait.

A monstrous shark has taken the hook,
it's struggling hard to break free,
thrashing and crashing and fighting the line
as we drag it in from the sea.

At our beach,
at our magic beach,
we bask in the glow of the fire.
The moon makes a silvery path
on the sea,
and the waves come to shore with a sigh.

A beacon is signalling up on the cliff,
an answer blinks from the bay.
Smugglers are hauling in crate-loads of rum,
then silently stealing away.

At our beach,
at our magic beach,
the old bed is cosy and wide.
To the sounds of the ocean
we sleep through the night...

...adrift on the evening tide.

---

For those of you who read my MSN spaces blog, yeah, I posted this there, too, but I'm posting it again here, 'cause here is better.
I wanna try and make a blogskin out of it if I have a lot of spare time some time... Cause I'd have to make the picciness on the laptop, then flash drive ify it onto this computer to upload it and yada yada yada. But I still might. It'd make a good blogskin. I love that story/poem thing. Lots of good memory association thingies. Father used to read it to me when I was little and tiny and stuff. When I were naught but a wee lassy. Beautiful story. Nice pictures, too, but they're all non-digitallified and stuff, so.
Anyway, that's me done. Night-nights y'all.