The sound of the pounding surf.
The beauty of the waves as the tide comes and goes.
Walking along the beach, the spray upon your face.
The smell of ocean air as a breeze whisks across your face
Oh Father, who am I to complain?
I worry so much of the time here in my comfort zone.
All seems to be going wrong. I wish not to bother thee.
My friend Ann is moving on, as she should.
O'er thirty years ago
you came into my life,
I remember as if it were
yesterday. My beautiful one, I will love