centuries

iii. ocean

"this is my favorite spot in town," she says,
we stand overlooking the churning sea,
the waves crash against the rocks
and the water is a muddy grey,
the colour of paper
once you dip it in water.
the sky is cloudy
like the painter decided halfway
through, that the painting isn't working out
and he destroyed it with his paintbrush
and moved onto another,
f r u s t r a t e d.
there are no people around,
only seagulls
and the wind is cold, sharp and unwelcome
as it stings my face
and makes me shiver.
i find it dreary and wonder what
she could possibly
like about this spot.
"the ocean never judges me,
the sky remains constant
the waves churn, clouds keep moving
no part of the ocean is where it was yesterday
and the sky is never the same colour twice
but somehow the ocean and sky
are still the same, and still together." she explains.
"but you could always sit at home," I say. "it always stays the same."
but she just laughs her magnificent smile and it makes my heart warm,
"Home is where I choose for it be."
I wonder how she belongs at the sea,
as I watch her gaze at it smiling playfully.