Dull, torrent gray engulfed her, all light was smothered.
She danced over the rocks that were covered in tip-toeing sand,
leaping from one weathered log to the charred ashes of another.
Aware that the weather held no mercy for her, she took her hands
and gathered her coat, clenching the fabric around her.
The rampaging wind ricocheted off of her exposed face and
the ivory deepened one more hue as she trudged closer to the water.
Into the open, the crashing battlefield of sea and land,
where the tide always leaves victorious and the sand endures slaughter.
Each wave ripped through her mind as the sky became more bland,
then, the clanging ceased as the sun burst through the clouds asunder.
“Well,” she whispered, “I’ll be ******.”