When she dreams of following streams,
of childlike castles in the sand,
with ancient pebbles in her hand,
seen through brown eyes that gleam.
As the tides leave tales untold,
she sits among the scattered shells.
The sea gulls sound like ocean bells.
With sand too soft for her to hold.
She molds the dough into an art,
and knows that it will fade away.
Like secret whispers in the dark,
yet still she builds it everyday.
With girlfriend longing in her heart,
for sandcastles that will stay.