3/16

The waves go out,
The waves come in,
Like candle light that's dwindling...
Ages pass and bones grow thin,
But the old man's smile is still welcoming.

And as I sit down by the shore,
I can sense that many have come before;
Their whispers ride upon the winds,
Ever so slightly saccharine.

3/9

The bird was dead.
It was beautiful.
Still and elegant,
It's skin tinged blue and it's beak so smooth,
It's feathers lay nearly perfectly preened as if to be displayed.
I feared I might be the last to look upon it,
For the tide was drawing closer,
Unknowing of what lay ahead,
Waiting to be taken.