Two pairs of feet walk synchronized, push prints into the sand,
And two hands join together as I watch from where I stand.
Their plans are all too simple, to never die alone,
When he’s away on business her hand will never leave the phone.

Beachgoers pan to see them, the cutest little pair,
His tall and rigid structure and her solemn windswept hair.
The show won’t last forever but they savor every look,
Both the young and the old, they have the public hooked.

But I can never walk like this, to be happy is a sin,
No one wants to see such things, two women and two men,
And so we watch from atop our perch among the dunes and grass,
And look at all the people gape when as couple after couple pass.

Two pairs of feet walk synchronized, push prints into the sand,
And two hands join together as I watch from where I stand,
One set of prints behind them leaning closer, just to see,
I watch them walk the beach front and ask: why can’t that be me?

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