I find an empty bench
A precious commodity
Facing the promenade
Of beautiful passersby

The gulls call out
Their shadows sometimes pass
This beach town has come to life
In the eighty degree sunshine

Two-thirds of the bench vacant
I am hopeful
That a passing beauty
Will stop and share the seat

As the waves arrive before me
And beauty continues its walk
I can’t help but allow
A joyous smile’s arrival