You can feel

you can feel the ground shake as the cruise glides across the salty seas but it’s not a cruise it’s a blue yacht and your legs are actually trembling from the cold breeze whipping across your still damp skin

yet you sit on your blue and white striped towel, knees clicking together each second sand runs down to your feet stopping before the little scar above your ankle

afar the yacht horn bellows and you point, telling your mother to look but when she does it sails away, becoming obscure in the fog.