An Eighth Shot of Espresso: Coffee and Creativity on Mum's Third Shift

I miss the sound of ocean waves as they hiss along the shore the foam sparkles in the sun as it eddies around the rocks. I miss the sound of seagull's cry crabs skittering on boulders dark blue on the horizon clear azure around me to the bottom of the water. I miss the smell of a clam bake the laughter of good friends the whirr of a fishing pole the feel of warm sand the clear stars high above. I miss a simpler time when we could just watch the tide roll in and out and we were young and so much in love.