A small child leaving footprints in the sand,
Carelessly willing and wishing to hear,
The sweet inviting sounds of the sea’s band,
So the fates hold a cone shell to her ear.
And hearing the music of the water,
Such a fierce impulse, wanting to embrace,
An urge to become the Wave’s own daughter,
Entwined in their vast mystery and grace.
And still ambling across the ashen shore,
Escaping from the diving birds of prey.
Legs tire, difficult walking any more,
Wishing the waves to carry her away.
With trepidation from their circling,
Watching their hunger wetting and growing.
These ravenous vultures are gardening,
As she lies angular, dying, slowing.
And then release, as a mermaid to foam,
Now forever lost in the raging waves,
No new faraway shores on which to roam,
She is lost among many sunken graves.
And it all ends in absolute darkness,
So, ask the question; what was she here for?
Should we feel a thing, like some catharsis?
Please, she does beg, just one promenade more.
