It’s not been so long ago that we took a stretch along this beach.
We walked along the sands until the sun rose in the east.
Wading through the waters, we would share secrets of ourselves.
Dreaming of how the world could change with only our help.
You even gave a thought to me of how you would like to be.
A poet of the literature, creating the warmest poetry.
Your dream is carrying on with me, yet you were cheated short
Of a life you were to retire from at the “death of youth” port.
So when I hear of the ghost who walks the sands,
I remember the soul with whom I held hands.

12-21-1989
Written by Gail Brookshire
Inspiration: him