reverse destination

The backpack cuts into my shoulders
we’ve been walking too long
along barren tracks of grass
trying to find the ocean
in the morning frost

The camera lies unfocused
against my chest
the artist in me lusting for more
than green and blue and grey

I itch to sit, to draw
to feel the wind
on my cold chapped skin
creating my own impressions of Finland
far from the home I know
if only we could find the beach

You complain of sore feet
and I suggest we rest
but we both fear that if we sit
we might never make it
to our destination
so we trudge along in silence
praying the next incline will be the last

And finally when we consider
heading back
the hill crests and I am hit
with the ocean air on my face
my pains evaporating
at the sight of the bleached sand
and stretch of blue

You breathe in the salted air
as I run to the beach
and scramble to unzip my backpack
my pencils spilling onto the beach
in my haste to sketch the mountains
behind us

© Indie Adams 2015

Written for Madame Lavender's, Pick a List comp, List #4