Donna May

There's a beach on the far end of town,

That the pretty girls lay on . . .

The children play on . . . in the light of the day.

Pretty lady walks down to the shore at dusk and she stays on

Often 'til day's dawn ... breaks over the bay

 

One look in her eye and you spy

How she carries a heartache

Heartbreak could be her middle name

At sunset, she raises her glass in a toast to the name of 

The late love ... of Miss Donna May

 

She is known for her kindness as much as her so timeless beauty

A lady of fineness like none he’d encountered before

 

So, the gentleman walks to the shore 

And he sits right beside her

Hoping his smile, her heart he might sway.

She confesses her heart is too broken for what he may intend

But for to be friends, he is welcome to stay

 

So, friends, they became, they would meet every day on the Bay Shore

Soon, constant companions, though he longed and prayed for more 

 

And so, it went on, Twilight and Dawn

On the bay side

Neither denied his feelings that way

Every sunset, to her fallen love, she'd still raise her glass to.

He'd raise his glass to Miss Donna May

 

Decades would pass, how he treasured each glass shared beside her

Hair of glistening gold now an elegant silver . . . grey

 

‘til the day when she walked down alone again

On the wet sand

Seems her old friend had just slipped away

She turns her back to the sunset, and toasts to the name of

The best friend of Miss Donna May

 

Turns her back to the sunset,

And toasts to the name of

The best friend of . . . and the last love

Of Miss Donna May

This is fiction, based on a story I was told by a lady whose fighter-pilot fiancée was shot down over Vietnam. She said that she used to go to the beach in Pensacola every night, where they used to walk together.  Classy lady.

© 2019 by Wayne Willingham

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