The Sand Speaks

On a moonlit bank,

ofsome distant shore,

Footprints linger,

on that soft formed moor.

Untouched by the wind,

or breaking force,

They wait there,

in the sand so coarse,

For laughter and dreams,

to thread on those beams,

For children to make castles,

and sport their themes,

Fun games of all,

the passing times,

Girls singing,

sweet songs they chime,

Nights of love,

and tragedy,

From the shore,

they call to thee,

The waves take hold,

but rarely let go

Echoes of memories,

a forgotten woe.

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A/N: I just love the beach. I love to sit on the sand close enough to the water so that it engulfs my body up to my neck and then gently tries to roll you in to itself. Persuasion. And when you go to bed after a day at the beach you still feel the waves as you drift into dreams and sleep.