whoosh and swish
as the waves break
on the beach.
There are a million stars.
The sand is still warm
between my toes.
I scrunch them up-
it crunches satisfyingly.
Gramps is fishing.
We are the only ones here.
Just us, the sea and the stars.
The air is warm and salty.
'Got one!'
His arms strain
as he reels the fish in.
I can just make it out
by the starlight-
wriggling and squirming,
a flash of silver scales.
It lands with a thump on the soft sand.
'Grunter.' says Gramps.
Its yellow eye stares at me,
pleadingly.
Its lips open and close
like its trying to tell me
a secret.
It falls suddenly still,
and its scales fade to grey.
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