The Beachcomber
Endless pulse of ocean's dance
carries flotsam to the sand.
Every day another chance,
prodded by an unseen hand.
Such a love I've never known—
waves crest on his brilliant mind—
after many nights alone,
sure there was no love to find.
The gentle wisdom in his voice,
urging wind-tossed heart to mend.
Remember, love is not a choice,
it finds its harbor in the end.
Such a kindness in his eyes—
passion sets my world afire,
and once more, to my surprise,
his whispers with my hopes conspire.
The sea has washed this love ashore,
and I, the beachcomber, unaware.
A glinting pebble, lost before—
just walking, I have found it there.
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