POETRY

The Salted Shore

The sea, a restless beast, gnaws at the shore,
its frothy maw devouring the land.

Each wave, a hungry tongue, licks the sand,
leaving behind a taste of brine and memory.

The sun, a molten coin, flings itself
across the sky, scorching the earth.

Its rays, like fiery tendrils, reach down,
caressing the skin with a lover’s touch.

The wind, a fickle dancer, pirouettes
amongst the dunes, lifting grains of sand.

It weaves whispers through the air,

Secrets carried on invisible wings.

The rocks, ancient sentinels, stand firm,
their jagged faces weathered by time.

They guard the coast, stoic and unyielding,
witnesses to countless tides and storms.

And I, a transient wanderer, walk this edge,
my footsteps etching stories in the sand.

I taste the salt, feel the sun’s burn,
and listen to the wind’s haunting melody.

Here, where land and sea collide,

I am but a fleeting moment—a breath—
caught between the pull of earth and sky,
a witness to the eternal dance of elements.