A memory of salt

I miss the oceans of the west coast,

The frigid waters of the pacific,

White sands strewn with millions of rocks,

And the sweet smelling mixture of seaweed and salt.


I remember how the gulls would fly so low upon the swelling tide,

How seals would play upon the surf,

And once upon a rainy day I saw the whales out on there way.


Come with me, north, south, east or west,

And I will lead straight to the sea,

We’ll climb the rocks,

We’ll scare the crabs,

And write our names in the sands


When night falls, we’ll watch the tide,

Our path home illuminated by star shine.

The End

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