Conventional, sure.
But it will never matter.

I linger in the opalescent pools
For seconds of eternities.
When they press forward I
Push back my hands and wait.
The next wave breaks soon.

It doesn't matter
If others have pressed here
On these same grains of sand.
The imprints are made soft and falter.
And so I stand and let the
Granules bury my feet and
Establish them.

Oh, how far have others swam?
Have their feet left the ground?
For now I only hover,
And the wave crests and lifts
Me to the dusk.

Soon they'll carry me out on a
New moon. Soon they'll ease me back.
And I don't care which water has been
Here before.
Moments can be replayed and
Returned and tossed, but
I'll hug the horizon and
Let my fingers slip from the coastline.