Without her, I am a lone wave cast adrift,
Where salted winds and whispers lure me more;
Her water, lost love, remains my soul’s true gift,
Recalling nights of bare skin, on earth-warmed, shore.

I sense her rhythm in the ocean’s score,
A chord of flesh and salty tears allure;
Her pulse, a tide that bids my soul restore,
In lustful waves where dreams and desires endure.

I, the lone wave, feel her touch in every surge,
Where breezes hum on dunes with whispered care;
Her love flows, andante, in rhythms we emerge,
A salt-kissed ballad breathed on coastal air.

Thus, in my depths, her water, a sonnet farewell,
Gaia’s Soothing Haven mourns love’s endless swell.