We meet in the old model town
With its windows smashed, walls broken down
Though she tries to pretend it’s not bad
She patently finds it quite sad

Her spirits seem lifted next door
At the crazy golf – PGA Tour
As I fish her ball out of the pool
I make her laugh playing the fool

At the end of the pier we embrace
As the sunset caresses her face
While I finish the last of her chips
She plants a light kiss on my lips

We follow the shore hand in hand
And look back at our prints in the sand
She thanks me for setting her free
Then vanishes into the sea

© Ed Rackstraw 2001