On a Sunday morning it is my retreat

It’s a place me and my dog go

It’s where I stroll with bare feet  

Where I try to make the time slow

It’s where I head when I’m feeling hollow

The temperature is 20 degrees cooler

A baby blue sky turns white right before my eyes

My pup’s golden coat blends in with the sand

I toe the shoreline

I think about life and try to understand

I am a historian

Everyone’s left yet here I am

Do my old friends ever think of me

I’m in mid-life where there are no new ones

Superbowl parties and Bible studies are no longer much fun

And baby showers were never my cup of tea

My feet slide around on some seaweed

My pup rolls around in a dead fish

Being covered in that putrid smell is his wish

And I don’t try to stop him

Besides, I can barely see

The fog has moved in and everything’s misty

Misty, like my childhood German shepherd

Another one who cracked my heart

Why does everything fall apart?

Does it ever get better?

Those piled rocks in the bay are like my mental roadblocks

Those eternal pools in front of them are like clocks

I stare as the water sits there

The rocks hold back the waves

I wonder if those pools are ever afraid

Will they unleash like my tears if those barricades are surpassed

Aahh, maybe I shouldn’t have asked

I’ve been on this beach my whole life

Even in the fog, it’s so nice

Seaweed and rotten fish

Golden retrievers and sunshine

All the things it is

Though we’re in the fog, I am still a believer

On the beach, maybe a little out of my mind