Road To Shore

Teams of sun
Gathered in the trees,
It's hue gold
Amber casts
Held,
Similar to a room 
Golden emanating tomb;
What gloriously 
Felt
To travel by forests route
Where desolate houses
Lonely
Seem belonging
To the woods.
All a spectacle
But not as inviting 
As the road
That commanded
Every bit of attention
Beconing further exploration,
When greenest of mile markers
Pass by to zero
And the welcoming sense 
Is bay's bridge smacking
At your nose 
With a mixture of it's crabby, fishy smell.
Nothing is as expected
Being surrounded by 
Colorful hotels
Still plagued of the 50s and 60s,
Where boardwalks run parallel 
To a shimmeringly blue ocean,
Unimaginable fun will mingle with stress
In coming days
Of looming sunburn
And the invasion of sand
That is always a souvenir 
To unintentionally be taken home;
But let it not, be forgotten 
That road to shore
For it is yet traveled again
In unfortunate unwanted return
Of whence we came.