I can see the swell of the great white waves rising and plummeting back down to earth.
I can see the rubbery clumps of kelp, and earnestly try to avoid them.
I can hear the screams of joy and terror as my friends try and succeed.
I can hear the mocking voice of the seagulls, as they desperately trying to snatch food.
I can taste the ever growing sting of the foul salt water in my mouth.
I can taste the grit and sand grinding between my teeth, as I take a bite into my sandwich.
I can smell that indescribable, familiar scent of the sea as soon as I near it.
I can smell the putrid pong of the immense amount of kelp washed up on shore.
I can feel the unexpected, sudden slimy feeling of my feet crumpling a piece of seaweed.
I can touch the deck of my board, as that feeling of thrill and excitement begins.
Nikita; I really like this poem. I especially like the way you have been able to evoke memories for me of the seaside. For instance I used to take my family to the beach for picnics and I can remember 'the grit and sand grinding between my teeth, as I take a bite into my sandwich.' Wonderful how you end your poem with the promise of a 'thrill and excitement.' Do you think you may surf again? I look forward to your next blog post.
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