Orginally written: 3/93

Walk down the paved road toward the sandy beach;
smell the salty air; it's almost in reach.

Remember times of past,
spent on the beach, wishing it would last.

Getting closer, almost there.
Tasting the sweet salt in the air.

Cross the road to the other side;
there it is, but it's low tide.

A little dissappointment, but soon, you know;
high tide will arrive, steady and slow.

Low tide's brother arrives on a path shore-bound,
traveling in from the world around.

Standing on the sand; your feet sink in.
Smooth white powder; your feet sink in.

Staring at the water; it beckons you.
Immerse in the water; wet and blue.

It isn't water, but liquid crystal, glimmering in the sun.
Each ripple a story of Summer's fun.

Stand and listen, you will hear;
tales of fun, from previous year.

Add your own private story.

Add to the ocean's glory...