It is in

These early dawn

Hours when asleep

You all are

That I find

My greatest peace

You still sleeping

Yet I am

Now dreaming these

Delicate petit fours

Sweet and savory

Morsels of memory

That tickle and

Hang and dissolve

And disappear into

Another and another

These waves coming

Ashore bringing with

Them trinkets of

By gone times

That I collect

Like a child

On Coney Island

Wondering where they

Started then remembering

It was there

Of course way

Way out there

And reaching out

To the horizon

I pinch that

Thin line between

Sea and sky

Gone they go

Replaced now by

Your sleepy eyes

Looking at me