In the distance, an echo
“Beaufort, Beaufort by the sea…”
Keeping cadence gently with the waves
Though I haven’t walked this shore in years
The ghosts of footsteps linger here
Fifteen men, forty-three pounds
Dancing with the sand fleas
Their ghosts are still running
Younger than the uniforms
The sound still rings reveille
Soft as the first whisper of dawn
And the crucible still burns
Though the hills of Paris Island
Have grown over our bootprints—
“Beaufort, Beaufort by the sea
26 miles from Yemassee.”









I think this is the lightest piece I’ve read of yours. I’m almost in shock. lol. This carries a quiet, restrained reverence, the kind that honours memory without dramatizing it. The echo of cadence against the waves lingers long after the last line. Loved it.
I appreciate that, sincerely.