All perfect morning
the ocean smiled
as older folks
happy in the surf
screamed their great joy
and splashed each other
like the children
they used to be
so long ago
and then after lunch
came mid-afternoon
and more than a few
reclaimed the waves
they called their own
and the undertow
came upon them
slowly slowly
and tried to push
them out to sea
as if going home
was not pain enough
at sad summer’s end
but no one spoke
of not returning
in a year’s time
to the long sand beach
of bright umbrellas
and cool breezes
nor complained of their
grim operations
and the dark fear
of nursing homes
nor talked of not
being alive
anywhere at all
in the whole wide world
and the sun ball sank
lower and lower
in a low gray sky
loud with seagulls
as the chartered bus
crawled up the hill
to the highway
and joined the heavy
traffic heading north
leaving behind
what these old folks
could not take with them
except in their
sun-kissed memories
