Summer sands swirl their salt in pools of shade,
where dove wing tides send shark teeth to the shore.
The scientist in sunscreen, shells adored
like shipwrecked junk from that intrepid maid.
Together wading out and not afraid,
you keep me safe above the water’s roar.
Relentless arcs on rolling waves I soar–
we had to stop but how I wish we stayed.
The dresser drawer gets stuck with every pull;
there’s the note, old socks pushed out of the way.
A child’s pen writes loving and careful,
talking pearls, crabs, and shells as if to say,
“Missing you, the beach, and waves rolling full,
I love you, we’ll go back again someday.”
Evan Schmidtt is a writer, creative director, and instructor working in Los Angeles and Nashville. She has a background in comedy from The Second City in Chicago and holds a BA in Writing and Producing for Television from Columbia College Chicago. Her lecture, "How to Write Female Characters," has been presented at Columbia University in New York.