Black Book Of Poems.

★

She told me that the ocean,

Had been calling out her name,

When the tide went out each evening,

She felt that she should do the same. 

The waves tugged at her ankles,

As they pooled around her feet, 

Whispering of wonders,

That she was still yet to meet. 

But every time I asked her,

If she knew the reason why,

She simply said this arid world,

 Had turned her deep heart dry.

There was just one way she knew,

To finally feel like she was free,

And it was 14,000 feet,

Beneath the cold and stormy sea.