A Golden Calypso

I can still see her standing there
Impatient as I slowly fill the bucket.
Sand,
Long since banished from its home beneath the waves,
Lingers beneath my fingernails.
Stuck for days in the mysterious cavities of my ear.
The pain of contact with my eye reminds me of her warning,
Which I, ever mischievous, fail to heed.
My swimsuit is soaked and clinging.
A towel,
now half sand,
Becomes an uncertain resting place.
Recumbent,
I stare bravely towards the fierce midday sun,
But all I see is her reluctance.