Buried Treasure
Searching through sand, shovel in hand,
the sun seems suddenly harsh,
roasting smooth skin.
Salty taste goes sour.
What was instants ago a playful
pirate party with castles and crashing waves
becomes a search for my best friends –
my green, heroic, plastic men.
Somewhere – under the elusive X
marks the spot where they slept – waited.
Tacky, bright colored shorts with
cheap fabric and awkward netting,
course, sandy fidgeting.
And the sun glares and burns.
And the gulls squawk and mock.
Squinty, sandy, water-glossed eyes.
The shore had eaten my friends.
My mother’s touch helps clear the memories,
Ice cream heals all wounds.
The sun takes cover
under the sheet of water.
The next day the sun again
resurfaces from its watery sleep
and stares face to face with speckles,
bright checkpoints of towels and umbrellas.
A new sandy-haired rascal arrives
playing pirate.
A sparkle of green shines
from under the sandy pile.
Buried treasure!
Three new toys!
X marks the spot!
Like a real life Pirate!
His new best friends.