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wild little whispers run
they hide and they seek
stowed away like laughter in a can
and voices on a wire
calling out to the maddening crowd
and to the slack lines on the pier
like a santa barbara daydream
honesty is a high-water balancing act
just one slip above the black, pooling ocean
they take their places
and they paint their faces
while the ferris wheel spins in the honey-combed distance
funnel cakes perfume the air
soothing splintered boardwalk feet
sand castles rise like a day soaked memory
and then gently dissolve into the foamy bliss
kitten whisker kisses tickle small children
as they skip to the beach
radio flyers in tow
baskets bursting from within
tools at the ready
they will dig
and they will bury
and when mother calls them
to home and for dinner
they shuffle away
feeling only just slightly bitter
for they have known of such joy
covered as they are
in the sound of the sand
with the colors of the water
and perhaps if they are lucky
if only father sees fit
they will feel themselves glistening
with salt in their hair
dashing through the waves
searching once more
and perhaps they will find
in a castle near the shore
the dreams of their childhood
before they are swept away
to the deep of the ocean floor

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 5/7/13