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Dear Diary, I am sitting up on the veranda. Captivated by the beautiful blue of the sky and the feeling of salty air sweep over me like silk. I love the smell of the ocean. My eyes scan the backyard, and finally set upon a shadow cast by a delicate lifeless fern tree from across the yard. Its fragile finger-like shoots sway in the salted air, as if beckoning to me. This backyard is always perfumed with the freshness of the sea breezes and scattered with frangipani flowers. Walking a circle of the garden and I perch myself upon a large sandstone rock which over looks out into the sea. I become so entranced by the white tipped waves crashing into the moss-covered rocks and the motion of tranquil waves rolling over the shoreline, creeping up to wet, but never reaching, the dry creamy white sand. When I was younger, I used to peer over our wooden fence and talk with the next-door neighbour. She was about my age, and we often used to play hide and seek, and run around dad’s prized veggie patch, pretending we were pirates who had just set sail into the vast depths of the sparkling sapphire waters.
Approximate Word count = 752
Approximate Pages = 3
(250 words per page double spaced)
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