Passed the trees that tower over head,
is a place where I find a sandy bed?
A huge litter box some may say,
but it just a place where I like to play.
Waters drift in and out like a tide of life,
and the winter air cuts you like a knife.
The sand under foot feels so odd to me,
but it’s the sight of the ocean I love to see.
The food is abundant and fresh with a tint of salt,
but is the ocean no the cook’s fault.
This is where I exercise my right to be free,
and when I see the sunset on the water’s crest I can be me.
I can wake with the crash of waves and air so fresh,
that I pull my pillow close and its softness I mesh.
My lover by my side and our ventures to the shore,
then alone behind closed doors I call out for more.
Champaign and candles would do me in,
for that very night I would unleash my lustful sin.
In the end A shower then his head resting on my chest,
there I would feel my very best.
I will work and strive to get my pay,
but on the weekend at the ocean is where I will stay.
