Pocitos Beach in Winter

The low grey sky cast a cold grey light 
on the coast where I lived in my teens 
The air in July had a wintry bite 
that froze my legs in my jeans 

The lonely beach was a perfect place 
to puff on a damp cigarette 
Where the onshore wind would sting my face 
and my shoes would be soaking wet 

The stormy sea was a fearsome force 
The shoreline flecked with foam 
I watched as the tempest ran its course 
then finished my smoke and went home