To Travel In Waves
Stood on a windswept shore, Dodging the wash of waves, That crashed around feet that ached With the thought of movement, A desire again to travel.
There is solidity and security On those shifting stones. Yet where the pebbles end, How easy it would be To give yourself to the sea.
To be carried on carefree tide, Current and expectant, And arrive again. Washed upon a distant shore, Not lost, but found. Alive.
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Do you ever stand on the shoreline, watching the sea and think how those waters could carry you to places you have travelled. And desire to travel again?
