White Sand

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Written for (and requested by) my daughter Grace

Times on the beach, on the white sand,
And thats our bucket, thats close to hand.
With our little spade, which is bright blue,
We build a castle, complete with flags too.

Times on the beach, the donkeys do walk,
Children on their back, who giggle and talk.
With our little money, we take a ride,
My donkey did walk, with so much pride.

Times on the beach, with coins to spend,
A time in amusements, to win we pretend.
The coins in falls, and some come out,
When we get some, we then do shout.

Times on the beach, the ice-cream so cold,
So yummy to taste, in cone to hold.
The coldness of it, runs down your hand,
As drips do land, in the white sand.

Copyright 1990 - 2013 Craig Wadner