The Boy on The Rocks(Newspaper Flown out to Sea)

The year was 1959,

Middle of a hot summer day,

The boy sat on the rocks, With his dog,

His mother not watching, His mother never watching.

Looking out to green sea, Made of some water mostly seaweed.

Not a crowded day, Rare for mother’s beach.

The boy got up and went to the end of the wall and waded around in the water a little to knee level. Fish came to him and left as fish do, back into lumps of seaweed, giving the boy an idea. He took his shin and waded through seaweed; Began to drag it along with him. His dog followed him and swum after him.

He carried seaweed along with him on his shin and picked up some more, dragged more of until it surrounded him, and it was warm and comforting yet heavy and everything was cold in comparison.

The boy from the rocks went into the sea,

Picked up seaweed.

Near the stone wall where the oysters lie,

Dragged it away.

The boy saw a newspaper floating out to sea

It had already dissolved most,

But a bit was still left, a tiny shed.

The top left half of the page could just read out ‘The Los Angeles Times’

The boy went closer to the page but realized that he wouldn’t be able to get it unless he let go of his seaweed collection, warm and loving on his foot, so he went after it with the heavy hell on his right foot.

He went deeper, after the page,

His dog did too.

He went for the page; swiped it; saw it.

And sunk.

The dog could swim; The boy could not.

The boy began to fall deep into the ocean,

The heavy falling,

He lost his crown,

And began to drown.

He was dying, as he clutched the newspaper, the seaweed and fish comin’ round to him. But he didn’t try to escape or call for his mother; He knew neither would happen.

But that was okay.

He had a newspaper shard, and the soft bed of seaweed surrounded him with warmth�"and he loved it...

...He felt the world fading

And that was okay.

He smiled in the salt water, his eyes still closed.

The End.