What We Did At The Beach House.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

it is freedom day for me
it is Thursday,

we enter the gate to the beach
fresh winds, green coconut palms
sea grass and white foams,
sea waves and slushy sands,

the octagonal cottage and the
bamboo tables and chairs,
stone silent on the table
collected by you,

we are here for no other agenda
except to feel the freshness of air
recounting those younger years
and then savor our sweet silence

i rock my body on the hammock
you lay asleep on the sofa.