As my feet clumsily plodded and crunched through the crust of winter
I listened to the lapping of the ocean, that familiar sound
and watched little chunks of ice bobbing in at the sound.
The sound where I spend almost every day,
now completely silent & no less beautiful.
I saw here & there patches of defiant sand
that had been blown by the wind through the snow,
announcing their presence amid a sea of white, white, white.
And as the sun breathed its last glorious gasps into the cold,
drenching it with fire that could not be felt,
it was more brilliant than ever,
knowing that few would brave the elements to enjoy it,
and that it should be extra spectacular to make it worth their while.
The waves keep lapping unaware against the white,
and I plod, ever determined, ever defiant, like the sand,
to glean every last bit of beauty & meaning that this ocean,
this sound, this world, can offer me and my lonely heart.
Laura the Lioness 