I remember taking my older son, Dan to the beach
On the ocean, on Long Island; he loved to play in
The sand, digging holes, building castles, and then
We’d go in; I’d push him along on his floaty toy
He’d sit up safe, captain of all he surveyed and
I was the engine, never out very deep, we’d make
Boat noises, chug around, I was his trusty guide,
His lifeguard, his life preserver, always that safe;
So when I saw the little boy washed up and dead
On that beach in Greece, I thought of his parents;
His father would probably have wanted to push
Him along in a floating toy, his son the captain of
All he surveyed, making all the boat noises, and he
Would be his lifeguard, his life preserver, his port in
Every storm — but that will never be.
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