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.
