Alone she sits on the salty sand.
Her eyes watch the pedestrians passing by.
It is late.
Night is falling as her eyes watch the sea, and her heart cries a silent melody.
The people walk past and they cannot hear her.
She sits and stares at the ocean watching the waves crest into albino foam.
Her face is devoid of expression.
Her arms are wrapped tightly around her knees.
Her heart cries.
She waits.

Under the sea a sound echoes.
Its harmonic tune blending with an aching heart far away.
He can hear her heart crying.
He who has no ears.
His body glides through the water effortlessly toward her silent cry.
He knows she waits.

Neither knowing why they need each other.
Or why their hearts yearn.
Or why their voices mingle.
Each knows they need the other.
But neither knowing quite why.
Still they cry.

I wrote this at one of the lowest times in my life. I was sitting at Cocoa Beach, Florida on the beach. The sand was so white, so sugary. The day was misty and rainy which went wonderfully with the slight depression I was feeling. I think I shall always love the ocean for some reason it is my sanctuary. It brings my soul peace when nothing else will. I wrote this poem in the sand with a small piece of seaweed or driftwood as I sat there watching the blueness move into white crests. After looking at the words I had to literally run back to the hotel and find pencil and paper and run back to the spot in which I had written in the sand. When I returned to the place there was a mother and a small child, perhaps 3 or 4 years of age standing and reading it. She did not understand the poem and the small child said to her, before I had the opportunity to answer, "Mama, she is talking about a whale." To this day I do not know how that child figured out my passion for whales or the sea, but the knowing little smile on that small face will bring a smile to my lips for the rest of my life. I wonder as I type this now, how many who read this will figure out it is a whale.