Waiting there in a lonely cove
An old clam house now to our avail
Adorns a rickety covered porch
And planked floor that lured us
Inside white washed and pale
Not much more, a modest place
With sandy beach that leads to a dock
Yet to be built on rights that are rare
where a moored boat will rock
To the bay’s gentle sway
As we sit and watch without a care
While the sun sinks low, upon us a lasting glow
Before disappearing into this place
Where dreams are made,
Or dissipate if left to fade.