Whispers ride the crests of waves,
In moonlit ballets, they draw near,
Each one a sigh the ocean saves,
A tale of wanderlust and fear.
They crash against the sandy shore,
In frothy bursts of brine and salt,
A symphony of ancient lore,
Where time and tide in dance exalt.
Beneath the stars, they fall and rise,
In endless, restless, rolling graves,
Each wave a ghost beneath the skies,
The sea's heart beats in waves.