A house on a hill, it overlooks the sea. We run from its place on the crest of a hill to the beach and splash in the golden waves basking in the shining sun, at night we cover our t-shirts and shorts with sweatshirts and flannels, proudly wearing our sunburnt freckled legs as trophies of our time in the sun.

Our house is a place of relaxation, there is no stress, no schedule, there is only this golden summer, this endless cycle of happiness, it is quiet here, the seagulls our only outside visitors.
The front porch is covered in sand from all of the bare feet marching past. Parading proudly off the beach, knowing that we will soon cross the porch again.
We are calm, the beach grasses surrounding three sides of the house are warm and baking in the afternoon light, the breeze is warm and gentle, our wet hair is dried into puffy waves walking from the dunes to the house. Inside, it is warm and breezy, though cold at night. The carpet is pale and flat, the walls scarce and striped, the calm, that surrounds us is occasionally interrupted by wild bursts of energy, late into the night, but returns after a fully clothed romp into the dark waves. Adrenaline pumps quickly before calm returns as peaceful as before, like it never left.
Sometimes when we feel adventurous, we run down the left hill to the general store for Popsicles and gummy bears, but more often we don't.
Preferring to to stay away from the real world, we simply eat the tortilla chips and ice cream that only requires a walk to the fridge. We talk of yoga and poetry by day, and pizza and the universe by night, we use the sunscreen up quickly and succumb to the pink tinge stuck forever to our bodies, coating our skin in the presence of the sun.
The golden light sets the scene for each moment, the waves and sand the backdrop, eventually we will return to our lives, we will become people again, but not yet. Now we are simply shadows dancing in the sunset, flower petals flying in the breeze, waves rolling onto sand, we are now, we are infinite, this is our forever.