“Why?” begs the water,
“How?” Cry the waves,
“I rush in to tell you everything
And you stand stoic like a grave,
And stoic you stand as I leave you again,
With the salt of my feelings to crust on your skin,”
“I care,” says the rock to the sea.
“Then why won’t you hold me and ask me to stay?
I’m tired of tides pulling every which way,”
The rivulets seep, try to force rock to weep,
But the sea knows it won’t all too well,
And swirls in frustration around in its swell,
But there are moon and starlit nights,
When the water surrenders most of its fight,
And the current grows soft and caresses
the weeds on the curves of the rock like soft tresses,
“I’m sorry,” the sea to the rock softly says,
“I know,” the rock murmurs, and forever stays.