The Beach
The beach has always called to me.
I stand on the shore and look as far as I can see.
When I smell the salt sea air,
I don’t suffer much from any one care.
I hear the waves rush between the rocks and gravel,
And I forget how I felt when things started to unravel.
I look at the old wooden pier, still standing after 100 years.
And I forget the sting in my eyes from my hot tears.
I listen and watch; birds screeching and flying overhead!
And I forget the crazy wishes that I was dead.
If only I could build a real castle out of sand,
And deny the rest of the world of it’s demand.
If only I could stay down by the shore,
And forget this life of mine, more like a war�
If only I could stay down here where the waves wash over me,
Then, maybe then, I could really feel free.
3/8/2004
I stand on the shore and look as far as I can see.
When I smell the salt sea air,
I don’t suffer much from any one care.
I hear the waves rush between the rocks and gravel,
And I forget how I felt when things started to unravel.
I look at the old wooden pier, still standing after 100 years.
And I forget the sting in my eyes from my hot tears.
I listen and watch; birds screeching and flying overhead!
And I forget the crazy wishes that I was dead.
If only I could build a real castle out of sand,
And deny the rest of the world of it’s demand.
If only I could stay down by the shore,
And forget this life of mine, more like a war�
If only I could stay down here where the waves wash over me,
Then, maybe then, I could really feel free.
3/8/2004
