I walk lazily by the sea,
over the  cushion of a sandy beach,
as gentle on the eye
as a vintage sepia photograph
from my archives,
steady warmth emanates
from the golden grains  
I listen to percussion of  waves
rising and falling with rhythmic ease,
buzzing with its dormant strength,
crawling gently to the shore,
kindling its own symphony,
horizon impeccably stitched with a silver line,
hemmed  to perfection,
as if by a loving  adept seamstress
far away streamers of tapered light,
flow through cracks
in  languorus clouds,
a solitary albatross with sleek efficient wings,
streaks out towards  distant horizon
bidding adieu to a departing sun.

I settle down on the floury beach,
soaking the sun of dusk,
breathing in the salty air
life is so much like the sea I reflect,
sometimes  at peace,
sometimes a raging  storm,
so take bad in your stride,
dont beat yourself too hard,
stay undeterred, undefeated
for there is always hope
for  a better tomorrow.
Winter always turns to spring.