the sea remains where it decides to be
waves crashing on and off the shore
it can never make up its mind about anything
i wrote poems in the sand
only for the sea to ruthlessly wipe them away
the sea carries no reflection or echoes of anyone
it does not have a face or a story to tell
but the seafoam says otherwise
the sea is just there to thrash about in its own ocean
and as i write this poem again in the sand
i remain hopeful that the sea does not wash it away
