South Beach Wild
My soul sang a song in the deep of night.
It cried from the depths of me:
I need to feel the sand on my toes
and hear the song of the sea.
I long to breathe in the tangy air,
walk along the shore in the fog,
watch the raven fly, hear the eagle's cry,
watch the waves from a driftwood log.
I need to feel the west wind on my face,
in the place where my soul flies free,
for nothing and no where else can replace
the one port that says Home to me.