Crack of dawn and sat in sun,
Amongst a read out pronunciation,
Like turning waves upon the shore,
Arriving and receeding between the gaps of speech,
Hashing out the sand like clear thoughts.

Hot day,
I'm a puddle on the floor,
Melted from a walk by burning tarmac,
The sun straight vertical overhead,
Leaving shadows shrivelled under,
And I set out for more,
Getting back to the body is worth the rays.