Landlocked,
but in my mind,
I see the sea,

Crashing waves,
I feel the spray,
and hear the roar.

In memories of the past,
and in music's melodies, I travel
from Marina del Rey to the Frio river.

Smooth clear water,
rushing through white rocks
dressed with green moss.

Beauties in inner tubes
float by, with coolers strapped,
but those never lasted.

I have loved and worshiped
but that's gone with the breeze,
now I sit and soak and remember.