My father and I spend the afternoon rolling the waves up

My father and I spend the afternoon rolling the waves up

Our feet sore from the broken seashells and crushed sand, our hands tired from the work

We have walked for miles, each step making our backs ache

Our hands gather up the shoreline, the foamy broken waves sighing as it relaxes against our touch

Finally letting itself still, ceasing its constant journey

My father looks at the end of our roll, the layers of sea and foam and sand

All curled around and around until it looks as if it were a portal

If we jumped through, we would land somewhere warm and safe

His smile is the warmest feeling, his sparkling eyes the safest

He nods and we continue walking, wrapping the waves into a giant rug

I don’t know where he plans to place this rug, but I know the waves will bring comfort

The drawl of the crashing and the retracting, the foaming up and the crawling away

The entering and the leaving, the hellos and the goodbyes

My father and I spend the afternoon packing his tools up

Our feet sore from the broken glass and crushed hearts, our hands tired from making fists

We have talked for miles, each word making our chests ache

Our hands gather up the memories, the metal cold tools sighing as they realise they are leaving

Finally letting themselves just be tools, ceasing their torment of listening

My father looks at the packed bags, the spanners and the drills and the clothes

All folded so neatly that it looks as if it were a portal

If we jumped through, we would land somewhere warm and safe

His smile is the warmest feeling, his sparking eyes the safest

He nods and we continue packing, tucking away memories

I don’t know where he plans to unpack, but I know his presence will bring comfort

The drawl of the crashing and retracting, the tearing up and storming away

The entering and the leaving, the hellos and the goodbyes