To walk barefoot along your shore,
I think I’d never ask for more.
No, wait, my grown kids here should be,
To walk your sandy beach with me.
Perhaps a cabin near, I’ll take,
With a vaulted window overlooking your lake.
And yes, my grandkids shall be close at hand,
Playing volleyball on your golden sand.
And my hubs in an apron at the barbecue, look!
That is strange, since he can’t even cook!
I’ll not stop now. I want to twirl
In a pretty sundress that flares when I swirl.
I’m parasailing now, rushing up so high,
Looking down on my life with a satisfied sigh.
Just stop. Breath deep.
Tahoe’s blue, blue waters must curb my wants.
Your rocks, your pine trees must console,
Your black and gold sand will calm my soul.
I slowly walk. I hear the sounds.
Birds, cars, your deep blue waters lapping round.
To walk along your beautiful shore,
My needy heart won’t ask for more.
by Rosemary Hatch Millet, Carson City, Nev.