There's the Sea Again

why change your colors, dear one? i bet you're not doing it for me. yet, i partake of what you so carelessly throw my way, those colors, ever changing. one moment you are of the tempestuous silver, so unruly, boisterous, challenging. the next, you are calm, detached, the color of molten steel tinged with the softest hint of blue. is it this heart you're mirroring with your unconcerned gaze? i didn't think so. i pass you by and hope i have the expanse of your shores, yellow and fine and littered with death--cracked empty shells, dead sea grass, disillusioned jellyfish, stories of footprints wiped off by the waves--beneath my palms, i want to feel the sun in your touch, perhaps it would take a second meaning that way. perhaps, you will see, now that you are an olive mask of temerity beneath an angry sky, how gaze at your wonder without me knowing why i'm drawn i'm drawn ever so strongly as your current tosses fragments of the sea against the sea wall and over it where the wind awaits to carry its scent and magic and fleeting glory to yet another enamored mind that dies in the saltine flavors of Love.