She saunters along the boardwalk
more confident than in her youth,
when young men would swoon
and older men were wishing
to be young again.
She meanders next to the surf,
laughing at the sea's efforts
to catch her toes
in a rush of briney bubbles,
tickling, as the grains of sand hurry away.
She strolls, and as the sea
eddies and pools in her footsteps,
like the memories that wash her mind,
tosses her hair, face to the sun,
and embraces the day.
She wanders near the smooth stones
polished by the relentless tides.
Like days and years they come and are gone,
come and are gone -
but with each a blessing.
She ambles among those blessings
with a flair and an aire.
She has that "something",
that "je ne se qua",
and she is beautiful.