Beachfront Property

Four hundred miles at least from shore No sand or surf seen anywhere With hills, and valleys, trees and more Shady trails without a care. In my youth, summer days were HOT And sweat was just a way of life Was always dry, was humid NOT A gentle breeze to cut the strife. The decades passed, the world turned ‘round And days filled with humidity Man’s footprints left upon the ground All because of stupidity. Dry summer days now out of reach With sticky afternoons at hand It’s like we’re living at the beach Without the waves, toes in the sand!