Perhaps it’s the way the salty breeze
Softens and smooths the roughest scar;
Or how, despite the sun, one clearly sees
The hopeful hint of an evening star;
Or how one collects seashells with ease
To keep forever in a crystal jar;
Or how the incoming waves taunt and tease,
And we jump and giggle right where we are;
The number of reasons span galaxies —
Most are rational, some bizarre.
But one thing the seas surely guarantees
As I search for inner peace thus far —
It’s the perfect place to release melancholies