sound of children playing

the waves, my friends
I miss them
I miss them more than I can say
more than mere words can express
soul is longing
soul is hurting.

I miss the scent
of the salt sea air
more than I can ever say
tears roll down,
cries of gulls
tears fall down.

Raised in a beachside town
Fool was I to leave
not knowing how good it was I had life;
pain and loss
pain and regret
what will I do
what can I do?

return me to the waves
when I die --
scatter me on the water
take me where I belong
take me home
take me home.

4.49a 01.jul.02
(c) 2002 john onorato all rights reserved