As a poet, I often find inspiration in unexpected places — scenes that echo something unresolved within us. I’ve always been drawn to stories—especially those rooted in love, loss, and yearning. This summer, I found myself captivated by the TV series The Summer I Turned Pretty. When I first read Jenny Han’s book series, I wasn’t only swept up in the love story. I was also drawn to its portrayal of grief, the weight of memory, and the quiet ache of growing up.
I found one scene particularly moving. The scene is in both the third season of the series and the book “We’ll Always Have Summer.” The book to screen adaptation is almost word by word. It is when Conrad finally confesses his repressed feelings for Belly. The scene takes place a day before she’s meant to marry his brother (yes, you read that correctly — it truly is a wild ride).
That beach confession became the spark for four poems. Each one circles the pain of trying to reach someone, only learning the truth when you think it’s too late. As always, the shoreline and the ocean crept in, the landscapes I return to again and again. Below, you can watch the scene and read the poems it stirred in me:
Over the Tides
Burnt edges and broken hearts
sinking like tide in the waves.
You told me yours was mine to take
that stormy night on the beach.
You had taken it back years ago,
ripped it from my hand.
But it still bled, as your voice broke
over the dunes of the sand.
Out of Love
Why didn’t you tell me
what I couldn’t see —
the demons and dragons
you fought beneath?
Instead, you made the choice for me —
what I could carry, what not.
As if the decision were yours,
out of love,
when you shut me out.
If you want to break me,
place your hand on your heart
and say:
I still love you.
You never left.
Aftermath
You don’t get to tell me
you never lost hope
when I clawed at the seams,
trying not to let go.
Scavenging every note
you left behind,
searching for your love
in places stripped bare.
You don’t get to say
you’ll always love me
when I’ve tracked
a path forward,
a hand to hold.
You don’t get
to do this to me—
not now,
when the earth
has finally steadied
beneath my feet.
Salt in Her Hair
You lay down your heart
in the sand dune’s hush.
Words carried by the wind,
whispering still.
Across the shoreline
where you played as kids—
over driftwood and seaweed,
the old lifeguard’s hut.
Let it rest safely there,
lulled by the current,
salt caught
in her hair.
Has any scene from a book, movie or tv-series inspired your writing? Share in the comments!
Related post: Love, Dunes and other ghosts.
Leave a Reply