By the Old Wooden Post

A boy used to run through the town every evening
His feet beating along the sand by the coast
He'd run to the harbour and wait for his best friend while
Whistling and leaning against the old wooden post.

She'd arrive short moments after,
with great cries of joy
She'd hug him and sing for him
With long auburn curls and a smile so coy

They'd leap around the sunset, climb over the moon
Making sandcastles and collecting shells, until soon

She'd look at her elegant watch on her pale, pale wrist
And kiss the boy on his cheek
Then pounce away like a cat
And down to the creek

Where she'd follow a path right back to her home
And sing as she stared at the velvety sky
Those twinkling stars were always enough
to bring a shining tear to her eye.

And the boy, why the boy would stay at the water
Tossing rocks, paddling in the sea
Til he'd say goodbye to the evening
And run back home for tea

The boy ran back and forth
Every day to the coast
To meet his best friend
by the old wooden post.