Literary Yard

Search for meaning


By: Patrick P. Stafford

The Sand

There we stood years ago, upon our emerald beach,
With pure love between us, and pure happiness within reach.
Years ago when you held my heart in the palm of your hand,
And I would caress your skin…that was the color of sand!

For how I loved and was loved by you, each and every day.
There in the summer surf, until the tide had swept away.
Then we would walk long, sweet walks along the shore…hand in hand.
And yes, how I truly loved you…and how you loved the sand!

Then cold tides reigned and dark clouds remained…for summer was past!
Then we were swept together in a life that couldn’t last.–
A life our seashore hearts never wanted…and never planned.
A life bereft of long, sweet walks…and of emerald sand.

But such is the illusion of passion and lovers’ youth,
And the bitterness that time gives maturity and truth.
The truest love you think you found and which time will withstand,
Through life’s frail fingers…can be as fleeting as grains of sand.

Still, though now I walk concrete shores and stroll an urban dawn,
And my one true love is now lost or dead, but somewhere gone;
Though I have found new life and hold some happiness in hand,
The past is not lost or dead. For God!…how I miss the sand!


[Patrick P. Stafford (Patrick The Copywriting Poet!) is a resident of Northridge, California, and works full-time as a journalist, copywriter, editor and poet.  Patrick has written for, Wheelin’ Sportsman, Amateur Chef Magazine, Healthcare Traveler, Northern Virginia Magazine, and Chicken Soup For The Soul, and has sold poems, articles and editorial pieces to both online and print publications over the past 30 years.  He recently had books of poetry published online at Writer’s Closet and SynergEbooks, and another poetic tome, regarding the life and death of Princess Diana, published in print in 2002, as well as fiction and journalistic pieces published nationally and internationally.]



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