how many salty waves must crash
upon the rocky ocean side
until it crumbles into sand
and, by moonlight, travels wide?
how many moons must cross the sky
’til palm trees by the ocean fall
into its ever-patient waves
that restless, craving, leaping, call?
how many constellations change
before all heartbeats, thoughts and sighs
blend into pale ocean salt
to live once more beneath new skies?
T. E. Pyrus