Thursday, 31 May 2018

The Waimak - by Amy Schonert

Waimakariri

The waves repeatedly punch the rocks
as the water comes closer to me

I smell the salty air
in my face

Stones pierce through my feet as
I run towards the water

The wind blows through my hair
like a hair dryer

I run to Mum, ready to stuff my face
with fish and chips

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