©2001 by Lori L. Howell

To hear the thrusting waves against the rocks

where you stand; during the calmness in a storm.

Every creature’s senses are aroused by the

different smells from the sea.

A cloud of dew leaves a taste of salt on my lips.

The foghorn blows to stir a moment of silence.

When I close my eyes your light captures my spirit;

embracing us into one.

My vision is your secrets of passing days,

awaiting the flight to eternity.