The ocean is a woman turned to the skies,
spilling her thoughts along a shoreline of sand.
You will never know what hides behind her eyes
by skimming the surface and reaching dry land.

Her soul is silent and runs deeper than deep.
O! How silent and deep her rivulets run!
Her whispers will charm you and lull you to sleep.
Let silence enter and the two shall be one.

Her coral cathedrals give pause to the brave
so eager to dive into the depths of youth.
She hides, yet magnifies, the giver who gave
sweet pearls of wisdom and immutable truth.

The ocean is a woman walking on waves,
wrapped in wind-song between heaven and the shore,
lightly tiptoeing over watery graves
buried deep where the sunlight can reach no more.

She tosses to turn; and she rises to fall,
undulating with her ubiquitous hips.
She dances on decks, over promenades all.
She is the sepulcher of a thousand ships.

Deep in her depths, the ocean is listening;
and my heart is haunted by love for the sea.
Waves are rippling; twilight is glistening.
The ocean is a woman and she is me.