Why is it on the edge
of sleep that I most
feel the currents pull?

All my worries are grown
and strong when the last
peaceful moment comes along.

My bones worn rough with
sand often shake and my
heart made all the more raw.

Where are the gentle tides
when my soul wants to take
to the depths and fly?

Somewhere a boat must be
pulling into the harbor for
a girl singing a sailor's song.

For now my beach is just
the sand the water and me
watching storms cross the sea.

How is it so easy for the fickle
ocean to draw wishes and woes
only to throw them back?