I have been on the brink of this sink hole
so many times,
the clams know my name.
My feet are planted firmly,
but the sands shift--the water erodes the foundation,
the brim of which I am slowly falling over.
I hear the crashing of the waves,
the shrieking of the gulls,
and I feel myself slipping like quicksand.
I see the tide come in,
and wait for the release-- the cold cloak of ocean,
salt and water
and I feel myself drowning.
I want so badly
to succumb to the darkness,
close my eyes, and just sleep.
But I can hear the laughter of children playing,
and my lungs burn for air.
I'm not ready to go, yet.
I need to laugh and play and build sandcastles.
I need to run in the sun, catch waves,
and dive for sunken treasure.
I need to be a child again.
I need to live.
I open my eyes, and struggle--
I fight and kick with all my might,
and I resurface.
I gasp for air, dry my tears,
and dream of warmer days.