I lift A creamy conch shell to my ear, The enraged ocean roaring, Crashing to the ground with a thunderous clap. I can smell the familiar ocean air The very essence of the sea itself: The sailor’s rugged beard, The warmth of the sun, The impulsive waves, All rolled into one. Seagulls caw shrilly In the sky overhead Swooping over the ocean. And I am lost in memories. Soft white sand trickles Through my extended fingers Forming a small pool around my feet. Massive waves hurl themselves At ebony rocks, Never ceasing their tireless battle Against the jagged stones. The salty sea breeze swirls In the blinding glow Of the sunny azure day. The brilliant spangle of sunlight Strikes the crest Of the towering wave, Dazzling the sky with a burst of color. Alabaster shells adorn the glittering sand, And bare feet Leave memories In the shallow imprints of footsteps, Only to fade as the wind blows. I lower the conch shell, Smiling at the recollections Of a peaceful time at the seashore Which have already begun To slip away. |