The ocean lapping on the rock.
Kids feet splashing.
Jumping.
Less care in the world.
Beautiful skies.
Sun.
Heat.
Basking.
Freedom.
Like never before.
First tastes of distance.
Relishing.
Loving.
Magical.
Rain, wind, cold.
No cares.
Gaa.
New friends.
Fast friends.
Stay in touch.
Another rock.
Close to home.
Our rock alone.
Smoking.
Laughing.
Ouija.
Bob Marley.
Smiles.
Cool clothes.
Our rock.
Train here.
Train there.
Silly.
Teenage.
Behavior.
Gross.
King of the world.
Queen of the world.
Church.
Falling down.
National pride.
More of everything.
Don’t end.
Be forever.
I don’t like the speed.
It is perfect here.
Perfect.
Walking.
A winding gravel road.
To chips.
Pool.
Jukebox.
Home.
Beach.
Beauty.
For the love of the rocky land.
The walls.
Thatches.
Crooked trees.
A wind-blown freedom.
A permanent cure.
Then a belief.
Mistaken.
Finally, over.
My voice broken.
My person.
Temporary mother showed me.
Where is my voice?
Why is it broken?
Knowing I was losing that thing.
No doubt.
The pain.
Not doing it right.
Ending wrong.
Plentiful tears .
Not realizing this was the terminal.
Assuming trip after trip.
Every year.
As often as possible.
Leave the door open for more.
Trips or live.
Wow…
Scary.
Exciting.
What next?
Promise of future.
Now I know.
Twenty-five years earlier.
It didn’t see.
A future of no return.
Assuming minimal recognition now.
Time marches on.
I told you – I don’t like marching.
So the lapping and talking much suffice.
No other choice.
Time is a friend to no man, woman, or child.
Life begets life, begets life.
I’d like cash my cheque.
Do it all again.
Not it.
A new it.
Running Half Empty 