I want to go to a quiet place
where the only noise is the silence of my solace.
Once I get there, I will put footsteps on the sand
I’ll count naively every step from ten to one thousand.
I want to sit and look vividly
to where seabirds flew from east to west
where the salty sea breeze ruffles my nose
where the soft ocean wind cuddles my flaws.
I want to lay on the pale white sand
where it’s coldness fits the numbness of my hand.
I’ll grab a cold musty beer can
holding the hand of my sweet Nebraska man.
Oh! how I deeply wish for a perfect escapade
Smelling fresh air from a spruce-like lemonade.
I’ll plan my itinerary and get a mess
‘Cause Cupid’s day isn’t made to be stress.