Paradise

You can’t always live in paradise,
the poetry was written in the sand,
“Close your eyes, shout to the wind.
This is paradise!”
Around she turned, the sand still there.

The fresh ocean breeze,
the sweet smell of sage,
the sun beating down
warming her skin.
The waves breaking,
the sea glass shining in the sand.

In between the waves crashing
She hears the sea let out a mournful wail
an ancient sadness,
or just the fishing boat beyond her gaze?

Crashing waves to trickling water
and sizzling foam,
mournful echoes to deadly silence,
The sound of the sea, seagulls cry
as ancient pelicans fly by.

The spray of water on her face
The smell of the sea; salty, musky, old.
Did you hear it? The cry of some old sailor,
lost at sea. His love forever held on the ocean floor.
Now a grain of sand, his wait the echo in the waves.

Kim Ritner