Color of outdoors blog

I remember spending every day at the beach.
Every day.
The wind would blow knots in my then irish red hair,
I’d be snapping photos,
collecting sea glass,
kneeling and thanking the earth for all that it had given me.
I remember touching my face on the long walk home and smiling
because it was still warm from the sun’s kisses.
I remember those long, hot summer nights,
staying up until 4 a.m. just to hear another punk on the end of the line.
I remember dreaming of sailboats, and salty seas,
and factories with their steam bellowing up to reach the night sky,
walking rainy streets and tripping on tree roots.
I remember the shirt I made you, I wonder if you still wear it.
I can remember exactly who I used to be,
and I wonder
just who
I am now.

M.