Softened bauble tossed by waves,
There in the tumble of my favorite lake,
You dance with pretty stones and driftwood,
Washed up and old but elegant.
It's something gentler the waves bring,
Walking down the sand with the gulls,
They float and they dance,
The waves break and break and break.
A soft roar and a driftwood stick,
Footprints and foam and green and blue,
Sunshine and yellow-tan with glints all about,
Looking for shells and other treasures.
We drift along in timeless reverie,
Until it's time to just lie still,
Sun-baked and wind-washed,
Filled with the beach-scent of the lake.
We take one shell,
Soft violet tinge inside,
And four colors of beach glass,
Green and amber and white and faded blue.
Treasures to set in a cigar box,
Children at play in endless time,
Tokens and omens and wishes of fishes,
An art of life that's sublime.
I turn it in my fingers and see all the beach glass colors,
Softly in my mind summer is ending,
Sharp edges gone and nights just beginning to cool,
Tumbled at the edge of Lake Time.
By: Daniel A. Stafford
Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to all the universe.Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.Loving words can work miracles.