The waves come and go
And the sea remains the sea

The reflections come and go
And the mirror remains the mirror

Joy and misery come and go
What remains is what is me

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Speak to me like you speak,
in tongues, or in plain old English
dusted with a view of sparkly seas
or oceans, as you say, my owl.
My crow, my dove, my dolphin
plunging among the waves that roughen,
among the sands that graze and toughen
your skin and hair but soul untouched. 
Tell me of the call you heard
from a distance, from the depths 
of blue or green or blackened water,
the rover, ...

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serene sea

wish here were we

not only me

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They stand,

Hand-in-hand,

In their elder days,

absorbing view of sea, of sky, of sand,

of bird, of wave of weed,

Sky to the horizon,

Looking forward,

Peace, a shroud of the land,

surrounding them,

enshrining them,

At peace together in

their Elder Days.

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Barefoot she walks along the beach 
Retracing lost memories in ripples of sand
The murmur of the surf plays in her ears like muffled 
notes bowed on a cello
the sun drips down behind 
the cobalt waves casting shadows to equal those of 
her longest night 
Hushed colours paint her skin in hues of poignancy, 
her heart beats in rhythm with the tide as she glides
through the surf
Footprints ...

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