One after another he painted--waves crashing, clouds floating poetically past and sea gulls strategically perched on the rocks, keeping a close eye on their old friend.

This day he sat tossing bread in the air, smiling, watching the gulls swoop up each and every crumb. Although there was a glimpse of sadness deep within his eyes, this gentle man truly enjoyed these simple pleasures.

One day he stopped painting, staring into the distance, watching a young boy flinging sand with each step, walking playfully along the shore. The old man could feel the warmth of the sand rushing between his toes and the sudden coolness of the waves that flowed upon the shoreline.

Excitedly and with a renewed sense of energy, the old man grabbed his pallet and began to capture the beauty of this handsome young lad. He hurridly finished his painting, intently watching the young boy slowly disappear into the horizon.

Exhausted, he lay down in the shady cove. He dreamed of the boy, so lively, whose carefree spirit had brought so much delight to an old man's day.

Awaking, eyes sparkling, he stared for a very long time at the painting he had created. The painting before him was of himself, so many years ago. He smiled, then sighed, "When I was a child I made my mark with each passing footstep. Today I again made my mark." He must have known that he had created his best work that day, for he had truly captured the passing of time and his own lost youth.

Email: debbyjean47@comcast.net