The Sea

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It is.

It just is.

When you speak to me of tender things

You are exposed, naked to the wind and waves

Vulnerable, and passive calm,

Enticing, and then enveloped

I am jealous of the sea, it bathes your feet

Its rhythms fill your ears, its sandy floor cradles your hips

Its surface sways sprinkled with your laughter and your smile

You taste its salty spray upon your lips and

Feel its warm embrace, and the sea in return

Delights you with gifts of shells, and stones smoothed

By waves while waiting eons for you to swim

And stroke its essence smooth and slow

Today I could be angry with the sea, I can but

Admire its patience and hope to emulate its feats

It recedes, it comes again. It retreats, returns in full.

The sea pursues, persists, persuades.

Today you spoke, and made me believe I can be the sea.

The Sea - The Courage of Intimacy by Keith Ainsworth                                                                                                                                                                              5