In the ridges of forgotten seashells between golden grains of sand,

pleasing memories huddle as one, in the palms of our opened hands,

coral crableg-curved, we kneel closer to the edge of the sea,

the starfish-shaped shovel, an old tin pail-- you and me,

Pastel summer days and cotton candy, pink-sugar-sweet,

at the end of long afternoons, it is our airy angel treat,

spreading across the expanse of water, and up into the sky,

beachcombing babies with gazes small, for treasures to espy

Wet sand firm and cold, though we both know it drifts away,

still we gather it, within cupped hands, when we go out to play,

I close my fingers quick, to keep it there a few minutes more,

but you spread your fingers wide, to send it down the shore,

Watch it now, dear brother, for sand and summer steal your days,

and I still long to see you running there, within the dusky haze,

I run behind you now, as always, down the beach back home,

but summer flees, you're leaving me, alone and free to roam,

Goodbye, summer, pack your bags, full of skies of deepest blue,

and don't forget the fading roses, you left in a room with a view,

you have gone, it's true , and left one last golden-shining ray,

the boardwalk's empty, and so am I, much to my heart's dismay.