Beach Chair

Hanging clouds, soft cotton candy,
wispy tendrils probe about.
In my beach chair, sipping brandy,
waiting for the tide to out.
Sweat is cooling, makes me shiver,
pondering my life and death,
yearning for a single sliver
of a sail upon God's breath.

There she is, all mast and glory
as she leans from bow to stern;
pausing here to tell her story...
time enough for me to yearn.