It's windy. The cool breeze of the ocean.
It gives,, a sense of beauty, in motion.
All is flowing, rushing and tide-
And I sit in wonder, dreaming beside.

Shells line the shore, lining and lining.
The sun is above, shining and shining.
The surf will speak softly, whispering in time,
"Oh my Love, will you deign to be mine?"

So I speak to the ocean, the Mother of all.
There's no other sound but the waves rise and fall.
Crashing, rushing, babbling in tune
Echoes the evening softness, coming so soon.