Beachcombers

What was it he saw in her That pulled him aside Whispered in his ear Make her mine Forty years passed now holding her hand Forty decades drifted Walking the sand Soft hair still blonde braided Her legs long and lean What was it made him think She is my dream What was it she witnessed Back then in their youth To hitch to his wagon Thinking, he is my truth A strong back and soft hands A laugh to his voice To render her resolve He is my choice Forty years passed now Holding his hand Four decades drifted Walking the sand