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!
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