Who would bewail an empty beach
Whose sweeps of sand that lie far and vast
Become a salty desert
As they swallow waves of uncertainty
That gently lap against the shore
Who would bewail a quiet night
With just sea for company
Whose stretch of water
Tosses and turns
And whose waves tumble wildly
Until they whimper
Defeated
Limp
And exhausted
Who would bemoan the crisp bite in the air
That nips at your skin
And plays with your hair
Cleanses your mind
Calms the soul
Sets your heart at rest
Who would bewail the wide plains about
Whose endless stretch
Seems to say,
Each grain of sand you stand upon
Is reserved for your feet only.
