You Were The Sea

 You were the sea,

When he moved to the coast,

A locked in land-boy,

Bereft of waves and their wonder,

When he arrived, he'd daily dive in,

He made it a practice to go in and down under,

Sea starved his whole life long,

He thought this love affair would run and run,

He swam in September and all through the year,

Regardless of rain,

In spite of the Sun,

You were the waves that lapped over him,

That called from afar, that drew him back in,

The tide that pulled back the sheets,

He'd lose hours in that water,

Lose count of the weeks,

He'd run fingers through the surf of your hair,

He'd comb the beach for the gifts you'd left there,

Little signs of the things that you bring,

Residues of your rise, and it's love offerings,

Hard things you had softened over time,

Foreign objects and trinkets with no value,

No reason or rhyme, 

But precious to him to find,

And the beauty it bought;

A rare and unique kind,

When he held them,

It bought your presence to mind,

Exotic and domestic, at the same time,

A sense of safety, an essence of freedom,

Your watchful eye would oversee them,

Unpredictable and dependable,

Sensuous but rarely sensible

Always there, Always moving,

Always changing, never changing,

Always changing, never changing,

When he moved to the coast,

You were the sea,

For that first year,

He'd live and he'd breathe

Salt and Sea air,

Were his only reprieve,

Though he'd drift back to land,

He would never leave,

The sound of the surf 

On the sand, filled his ears,

Calling him back,

From salty spilled tears,

To the place where all rivers run,

To the source of the salt,

And the birth of what had begun,

The love should never have gone,

With resources that deep,

It should have gone on,

But eventually the sea became the background,

The backdrop, that never came back round,

He could hear the tide all day long,

But he tuned it out, like a radio's song,

He got used to it being there,

Like he no longer noticed the salt in the air,

The sea was for the tourists,

Sure it was nice,

But he was a purist,

Some time he'd go further down the coast,

One day he'd go and chase that ghost,