A million grains whip on the breeze

to smash in your shin skin,

a thousand more mingle and eventually

line your sandwich tin,

How this beasted beach

Ingrains itself, swallowed down like

A crunching memory, to be

Carried inland and away from

sun filled days and

scoured sunburnt toes, wriggling

in wet through shoes,

clumped in abandoned socks

a forgotten childhood barnacled

On August rocks