The Shores and Spirits

 

The shore, a line of sand so white,

Where ocean meets the day and night.

The waves come crashing, loud and free,

A song the wind sings endlessly.

Small shells lie scattered, pearly bright,

Lost treasures in the morning light.

And seaweed dark as tangled hair

Sleeps where the tide has left it there.

The sun climbs high, a watchful eye,

Tracking gulls that wheel and cry.

Their shadows flicker on the foam

As if they call us, Come home, come home.

The fishermen with weathered skin

Haul heavy nets-the day begins.

Their boats in stripes of blue and red,

A modest life, but bravely led.

Above the surf, on rock and stone,

The lighthouse stands, austere, alone.

A standing witness, scarred by years,

To whispered prayers and salt-worn fears.

Its patient beam cuts dark from light,

Counting every stormbound night.

It knows the names the sea has claimed,

And ships returned, and ships unclaimed.

At cottage doors and shuttered panes,

The waiting spouses read the rains.

They scan the horizon, dusk till dawn,

By habits learned and hope held on.

With lamps kept low and hearts held fast,

They love through futures tied to past.

Each breaking wave repeats their plea:

Come home to us. Come back from sea.

The children laugh with salt-bright glee,

Raising castles by the sea.

With sandy hands, both quick and bold,

They shape small myths that beg to be told.

But listen past the water’s roar,

Past curling waves that sweep the shore-

There’s something else, a softer plea,

A breath, a soul that haunts the sea.

It drifts within the salted breeze,

A hush among the swaying seas.

It clings to mist and open air,

A presence felt, though scarcely there.

The sailors lost to distant years,

The whispered tales, the hidden fears.

Of mermaids fair and ships of teak,

Of stars that burned where compasses broke.

Their echoes linger, faint and slow,

In every tide’s returning flow.

They watch us still from worlds unseen,

The patient spirits of the sea.

They know the truths the waters keep-

The vows once sworn, the tears that seep.

All joy and grief, both rise and fall,

The ocean holds and knows them all.

So when you stand upon the sand

And hear the surf’s commanding hand,

Look to the light that never sleeps,

And feel the vows the shoreline keeps.

The shore-a place of peace and grace,

Where time and tide and memory trace.

A place to dream, a place to be,

Beside the vast, unending sea.