EDITORIAL
Not 'Art for art's sake'

On the Way Home

Dopey afternoon breathes through
Windows of my father's Toyota Corolla.
With favourite music in the background
School and studies are a thousand miles away.

I wiggle my feet to get rid of the sand
Between my toes. Half asleep
I still smell the sea,
And hear the sound of it, too.

Sun's rays had coloured the sea
With brilliant indigo blue, and was dropping
Drips of pearl paint
To hop and dance on the surface.

Cramped crabs were coming out of
Invisible holes on the ground
Restlessly. I thumped around to catch one,
But the swiftness of their run!

On my knees are souvenir shells, carefully
Wrapped in a piece of tissue.
They change colour from different angles,
Have a scroll design, or are cunningly crooked.

I could have spent all night at the beach!
But they are all over.
All gone.
Why is time always on the go?

Father drives in silence.
This short day at the beach, this warmth, this calmness, this peace,
Although they are short moments in my life,
They will stay in my heart for eternity.

Itsuka Yamasaki