This is a great first try, believe me.

Writing from the Margins

Winter at the beach

The cold, pale sand stretched out around the shore line

Holding one solitary figure,

Walking slowly along its surface,

Hair blowing in the breeze.

 

The heavy grey sky frowned in anger,

Watching the commotion of the icy waves

The full weight of the water

Crashing down upon the shore.

 

The bitter breeze hit like needles

Tugging at exposed skin

Inspiring the need for hats and scarves

And yet wanting the scarf to unravel.

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