"Last year's wood"....kronk

Let's clean out last year's firewood.

Pile it high, in the back of Dad's jeep.

Hurricanes washed away the black-top road.

Low tides coming. We'll run the water's edge.


In olden days, the "Breeze Inn" stood,

just past that clump of cedar wood.

See the wasted piles of the old "cow pen."

Feels good to go this way, again.


Miles and miles of sandy beach-

One way in..We're out of reach.

Dig a pit in the soft, white sand

and pile the logs, 'till tall they stand.


A wind-less night..The red-blue fire-

Of your good love, I'll never tire.

The night-things, cry..The ocean, calls-

Reflected light, from heaven's halls-



Hopeless lovers, arm in arm-

Lapping water..Distant storm-

Hot-red coals..The fire slows-

Your touch..The night..Our sweet love, grows.

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