To comb the beach of old cape cod
For treasures of the sea
I've followed the ebb tides across the sands,
As though it were a key.
The leaves have fallen to the ground
With rustling sound so soft.
Soon winter will come marching in,
With leaden skies aloft.
The time is now, and like dreams,
Somehow holds the secret to our hearts' desire.
The cool blackness of the night enfolds
And caresses us.