How curious it is, to walk along beaches
Made of thousand-year old shells, and
Think about how young we in are in comparison.
Sand dollars and dried-up crab shells floating around
In piles of sharp granules. We bend down
To grasp mussels and fragments of rainbow light.
A reservoir of life through passing year, and years
Long gone by. That footprint you made washed away to sea,
Rippled in time. The waves met with shoreline and crashed
With unmistakable briny consequence. Breathe in the
Salty air or the stench of warm, rotting seaweed,
And feel the cool ocean against our bare feet.
Let it all remain like this, let it be this peaceful for all of time.