Seaside

He gazes at the ocean as it floats on eternity
and feels the seabreeze caress his face
with the same tender touch he uses 
to softly paint his Love along her neck.

Seabirds fly in choreographed disarray
and he smiles at the perfectness of flight,
for his heart soars above them all
with her at his side.

And as she rests her head upon his shoulder
he lays a gentle whisper near her ear —
the sun doesn't make the sea blue, it just is 
the wind doesn't make birds fly, they just do 
and nothing you can do makes you beautiful 
— you just are.



july 2006
Janet Reid