No one goes to the beach anymore.

Through the casuarinas the waves look a long trek
the lovers when from the city take a break
can only hold hands on the sands
wistfully eyeing the sea a mile away
then kissing and making up the day
riding to where the winds take them
spinning yarns along the thickly saline haze
of what could be and will be
downing the present in the crystal pool
placid as the lost yearnings in their hearts.