Read from the tip of my toe;
The language it speaks, as it hits the ground;
It summarizes the history of my soul;
As occasions around my reality pounds;
With my toe sinking into the beach sand as I sip on my coke;
Crunching tone against the surface, it sounds;
Like Michael Jackson’s moon-walk, I backslide upon the hand of time as I reminisce;
Sadly smiling beside the beach, as the sun stretches beyond my reach.