The Sea

High above, the seagulls wheel and squeal like children at play.

No one hears your lonely tale, no one else save I.

Your waves roll on and pound and crash on the long deserted beach.

I have a need to learn from you, what I know you try to teach.

Relentlessly, day after day, you carve your mark on land.

You try to tell your stories in foam cast on the sand.

Your efforts are all wasted, as you sing your song again;

Telling stories of a thousand years, history long since gone.

What secrets lie in your vast, unchartered depths, as yet untold?

Ships lost in storms, sunk with riches of silks and gold.

Old sailors' tales of monsters ne'er believed;

Widows and orphans left by your hand to grieve.

You return again, with every tide you tell

Stories too precious for any price to sell.

Giving up memories, wanting to share with the sand;

Each tide that comes brings with it gifts in hand.

I sit and listen, willing and ready to learn,

But even my waiting mind you choose to spurn.

And watching you slowly glide back out to sea

I know that your wondrous secrets will never be free.