See it through the eyes of a child if you can;

a child raised in big city apartment cage,

an apartment lately filled with beach anticipation.

This beach, reached by crowded nighttime bus,

a bus where you sleep, upright, clutching your bag,

to see when you arrive, sore and grouchy from the drive,

to see, to see at last, strange and vast,

the sea.

.

See it through the eyes of a child if you can;

a child soaked in rules of culture, faith, society,

all society on holiday, transformed on naked beach

on sandy beach, mother’s hair across her face,

in bright cotton sari, laughing, submersing in waves.

To see as you watch, half thrilled, half shocked,

to see, to see at last, strange and vast,

the sea.

.

See it through the eyes of a child if you can;

a child photographed in waves, small and wet,

all wet from splashes, laughter, sweat,

shocked by power of roaring, slapping waves,

waves and wind unregulated, wild,

to feel, pulled and wrenched, half scared, all drenched,

to feel, to feel at last, strong and vast,

the sea.

.

.