A walk On The Sand
by John Patrick RobbinsWe knew love together hand in hand.
Memories are still living.
With are walks apon the sand.
Seashells in a old wooden box.
The oceans spray.
A vanishing form down by the old
docks.
A bottle without a message
comes in with the tide.
Try as I must this pain
I cannot hide.
That old lighthouse stands as
strong as should I.
The tide changes yet never does die.
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