Shells

We pick up shells from the seashore
Salt on our lips
Hungry for the cool lemonade
It waits in the bag we carefully prepared
We take our shoes and socks off
Dabble our toes in the cool salty water
The horizon is clear
For one fleeting moment all is well
When the sky becomes heavy we trudge back in the sand
It sticks to our feet
You light a cigarette
I delve into the bag
Drink small sips of lemonade
Try not to think of the scratching sand
My head whirls unused to being outside the confines of home
Home
That's what I will call it
I slip the shells into my pocket
I will remember this day
The highs and lows
The ebb and flow of the tide
Most importantly I will remember you.