By the Beach

54 years ago, I sat by the rock at East Coast Park.
The birds in the tree were chirping.
The waves were licking the beach.
The wind was caressing my face.

I was young, single and wondering what the future hold.
Today I went back to the same rock, an old man.
I have seem the future.
One day, I won't be there.

Maybe my children will.
And they too will wonder what their future holds.

I am sure the tree will still stand.
The birds will still sing.
The winds will still play with the beach.
And the winds will whisper sweet nothing.