in my youth.
the beach, the surf.
the sound of music.
the drive down with
rowdy friends,
staying in
the beat motels.
stopping at
the roadside stands.
and if lucky
a girl in hand.
how gentle the waves
were.
how sweet the honey
sun
fell upon our warm
skin. how long
ago it all seems, as fall
begins
and winter
waits like an old
old man,
not far behind.
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