By Mark A. Leon

That last night on the beach; Labor Day weekend
The final sunset
The final embrace; the final goodbye
We walked the quiet streets plagued with wandering souls longing for one more last call
Tomorrow, we pack the tan and leave the sunblock for the next generation

To us, a final toast
A ritual it seems
One that would never end
Rustic summer home
A drinking game, cards and off to the bar to be showered by beautiful women and tough guys
Billy Joel on the front porch; a beer in hand; a weekend that we thought would never end
“Honesty is such a lonely word, everyone is so untrue” would sneak into the tape
We stared
So much truth without a word spoken
So much time with so little to spare

The weekend was ours
The beach, the sun, the drinks, the meaningless love
Monday morning didn’t matter
It did
It always did

But at the shore, everything is alright
We learned that from the Boss
We learned everything from the Boss
Coolness, toughness and how to love in a time that tried the concept

Once again, it had to end
The song, the paradise, the youth

So many nights lying by your side
I can’t hold back, I thought
But silly awkward adolescence plagued me from the start
The disease of the young
Cure found too late

Ten people, two rooms, fifty pillows
It was a mansion
Intimate and lustful
Strangers on Friday, lovers and friends by Sunday

Closing time and I don’t want to go home
One last walk on the sand
Under the moonlight
Maybe a skinny dip
Maybe a kiss
It will be our little secret as we embrace our final goodbye
Sing me away to another place
Maybe someday, we will sing together again