It’s the weekend, and the beach is closed. All we can think about are surf and sand-castles. Let’s go; no one has to know. No one will see us swimming in the deep. Let’s play. Sand is flowing through our fingers; the abrasive grains are vanishing from our hands. Wow, we’ve made a mess of things; nobody has to know. The beach is closed.

Published by David W. Jones

David is a writer and blogger who enjoys creating literary expressions about everyday life. He is a published poet and currently doing reviews, creative writing, and storytelling. David's interests include narrating point-of-view scenarios, documenting non-fiction, and writing scripts for film and television. View all posts by David W. Jones