to be a child again.

come with me to the edge of the land
to live in opulence.
we'll build our castle out of sand,
and a driftwood picket fence.

away from smoke and dust we'll flee
to breathe fresh air for a stay.
we'll toss out our uncertainty,
and get lost in salt and spray.

and at night we'll have our fire.
we'll drink wine and we'll break bread.
not til dawn will we retire
to our humble sea-foam bed.

in the sand I'll plant my garden,
which will flourish out of will,
while the tide says, "beg your pardon,"
and skirts around the land I've tilled.

we'll be children in the world once more
we'll play house, and we'll pretend.
come live with me next to the shore
where the past and dry land end.