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Soft waves wash across our feet
and wipe our footprints from the sand.
Board walk provides a deep backbeat
from a sixties tribute band.

We've walked along this beach before
and heard the plaintive sea birds cry
as they patrolled this stretch of shore
wheeling within a clear blue sky.

But now my gait is not as fast.
My love slows down because of me
unlike the times far in the past
when we splashed this east coast sea.

Yet the mist still tastes of salt
just the way it did back then
in memories stored in my mind's vault
of how it tasted on your skin.

And as our evening comes on us
I guess the sea spray makes me blind
I see neither wrinkles nor hair mussed
just that young girl clearly in my mind.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


Thank you for your kind words

author comment

to your dear Susan and one of the peacful, languid places that you two have visited together. It couldn't have been more clear how much you are still in love with both your wife and the beach. Great stuff and a little different from the usual [woods] theme. ~ Gee.

It seems that the days and hours that people
are available for chatroom are staggered and
not a good match for most everyone. How about
if everyone just shows up at the door, whenever
they have a few free minutes?

I guess I write of the woods so much because I'm a knot head lol. But once in a while I tilt my noggin and let some of the sand run out...........

author comment

Yeah she waits and keeps on waiting for me for some reason lol. Glad you dropped by

author comment

is great
what would you want me to say
do pl state
and yeah
clearly xx* in my mind....You missed the ISxx*
eagles eyes this poet is

happy veterans day did u read it today

Hi Stan, what a romantic poem, the kind I most enjoy. Your love for your wife Susan comes through powerfully. The title, rhyming and all else is perfect. Enjoyed the read.
It's wonderful to visit you all again.
All the best, Gracy

"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

Thank you for your kind words. I'm always a bit surprised when a minor edit on an old poem brings additional readers my way

author comment
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