I want to move to the beach.
To build a house with my bare hands;
one that overlooks the waves.
I want to build a deck.
To stain it with some elbow-grease
and sit on it, watching the sun set.
I want to lay stones in a path.
To use the sweat of my brow,
and pave a trail across the dunes.
I want build a dock.
To burn the midnight oil,
until I can dip my toes in the tide.
I want to carve out a boat.
To put my nose to the grindstone,
until I can paddle past the breaks.
But one day,
I will leave the house, cross the deck,
take the path down to the dock,
and row the boat into eternity,
hoping all the way my talents were not wasted.