Morning by the Sea

 The wind from the sea hits my right cheek,

As my feet get salty and wet.

Sleepless, my walk is meek,

The radio of my mind, at one station I can’t set.

Every step leaves a deep mark in the wet sand,

And when my feet get sticky with muck,

The frothy waves make every grain disband,

But some between my toes, themselves tuck.

The last deep mark I leave behind I can see,

When I turn around to look at its depth,

I see no other footprint of mine and look at the sea,

The sea of life that does magic with its stealth.

So then why do I see my steps,

Right or wrong,

With the eye of my mind and reminisce

Everything I did in the form of a song.

The sand, though, doesn’t end,

It goes on, till the end of land,

So much more energy left to spend,

I start to run, only to make the percussion grand.