The Surf
Praise those forested eyes
As I long to climb the most.
My tides mirror the perfect size
Tenderly touching the coast.
Bitter mournings stress the dew,
Claiming the land with a kiss.
Sable waves bid adieu
And I question the capable bliss.
Drizzle the sentimental
With the bleak, distorted rain.
This time, I'll be gentle,
As you ride the current again.