Despite the surf conditions I am going in, I am having the last splash of the summer, That’s filled with swimming, the fragrance of the sunscreen, and the laughter of the playing children Despite the rolling of the thunder vikings
The dance of those umbrellas, to the musical sound of the wind I am going in,
The sea and salty breeze, Would no longer moisturize my face, The sand would no longer, tickle my toes and soon the frigid winter chill will swallow us whole Leaving the sandy beaches, completely deserted With the remains of dead Sanderlings birds on the shore and no more three-toed imprints left behind for us to enjoy.