The pier is there
The Skyway is there
The young Sabal\'s leaves are burned most likely by the salt sprays
The sea is rough
The lime rocks on the edge
Covered with seaweed and ocean brine
The seagulls dive as I watch the mists blow by
I made it to another wintery season
A little more dented with some missing pieces, but still here
Five and two thirds decades gone by
The seven is coming soon
How many more numbers can I add to my name
How many more days will I play this waiting game
How many more trips to the shores
And when will the seas call my name
The seagulls are having a hard time navigating the gusts