This is the place that I call home

Where the burnt orange sun seeps into my land

As I sit on the soft carpet of shingles

With its soft seaside fingers covered in sand

This is the place that I call home

With beams of precarious rustic wood

Dried out and flaking and covered in splinters

That I clambered on through my childhood

This is the place that I call home

With foamy rain water and showery mist

Through the clouds of percipitation

Is the salty sky, blurry and sun kissed

This is the place that I call home

Where I’ve buried beautiful memories of so much worth

I feel like I’ve drunk in the entire world

When this one beach is a mere dot on the earth

This is the place that I call home

Where clueless birds stretch out their wings

They pick translucent slime covered seaweed

From the gravelly pebbles as each eager bird sings

I’m drenched in the lazy drunken sunlight

And there’s such solitary beauty in feeling alone

This is my heart wrapped into a beach

And this is the place that I call home