Mornings early I’d sit on its porch a young boy only of eight,
The sea in the distance waves every dancing were the music of the seashore played,
The arid scent of the marsh instills a sun-washed place in the light,
I can’t help but think of the times when life wasn’t perfectly right.
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Where tidepools sheltered stranded fish and crabs a starfish maybe three,
The sand forts I built with moats to surround and the tide rising far up the beach,
Sawgrass and sea oats the roar in a couch that sounded just like the sea,
A sand dollar which when broken in half-told stories of why He saved me.
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Not much in life ever comes close to my love and thoughts of the beach
A memory from past,
Ever locked in my mind,
My safe place, my refuge, my cottage, by the sea.
Ah the beach….my favorite place. Let’s pack up the car and head there now ?
I couldn’t agree more. Thank you
Our Myrtle Beach my friend the memories are so sweet. Sadly the town has outgrown our memories and become something unknown
That’s what I understand. Memories are terrific things and fortunately we are able to travel back into our memories.
Our Myrtle Beach my friend the memories are so sweet. Sadly the town has outgrown our memories and become something unknown
Johnny – Ah – the world was “perfect” when we were children – it is nice to be reminded of the simpler days.
I’ve often wondered where the soul resides and what age, as I’ve had so many times in life that I cherished. There I go trying to count the stars in the sky!