The Walk by RM

The Walk By Robert Meacham A late summer evening seemed appropriate for a long walk on the beach. Even though dark grey clouds rushed across the tired skies, I did not care if a summer rain entrapped me with its embrace. A sporadic wind helped move me along the sandy shore. The slight gusts parted my hair and placed it like a shield over my eyes. Sprays of misty rain began to coat my face and fill my eyes as if tearing from pain. The skies darkened now and my vision narrowed to a few feet in front of my footsteps. I heard the resounding gushes from a restless sea spanking the shoreline that helplessly received it. This sound -at least to me-was a concert of fiery passion that bathed my soul to arousal. My steps quickened to pace the beating heart of an athlete. My thick thighs grew heavier each time they moved forward. I imagined that no pain meant no gain and I must keep my temple pure yet seductive. Youth-a time for passion, beauty, and games- I did not want to let go… ever. I strained to see through squinted eyes and through the gap of a sheet of rain; there appeared a figure of a person. I stopped my pace and straightened my body in hopes to get a better glimpse. With help from an imposing flash of lightening, the figure appeared again. I could not help but feel the piercing intrusion of another's eyes. The slumped shouldered stature of a man slowly became apparent. My heart raced and my chest pushed against the overcoat that protected me. I anticipated passing the stranger. As the man neared, I noticed a worn, tired face. His sunken eyes, partly covered by bushy brows, looked into mine. The awakening shook my soul and paralyzed my existence for a short moment. The man I passed so slowly sank into my memory. You see, that man turned out to be me.

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