Glass-by Meg Myler

Glass

            Golden sand sparkles and kingdoms grow and fall, in the land of glass. Crabs whisper sweet secrets and bottles line the shore, in the land of glass.

Rows of rock reach out to touch the sea, in the land of glass. Shells smooth as silk and soft as wool dance in the sun, in the land of glass.

Water rolls and falls and the sun warms the air, in the land of glass. The breeze is soft and slow and the birds soar high in the sky, in the land of glass.

Boats sail on the glass, still as stone, I hear the ocean calling me, beconing me into the water, in the land of glass.

The taste of salt touches my lips and a cold mist washes over me, pushing me over.  I smell fresh cooked hot dogs and cold lemonade, in the land of glass.