I sit at the shoreline, in the middle of the night
The smells of the air come to me;
Salted seaweed,
my vintage book pages laying open,
the fresh ink on the pages, bleeding out from my ballpoint pen
The sounds, the whole reason I came;
Crickets singing,
birds softly cooing,
the small crash of waves on the wet sand,
but through these sounds,
I hear silence
At my fingertips, I feel many things zipping through my body;
The crisp pages of my book, damp with the spray of seawater,
the damp crystals of sand sifting through my finger,
and the soft wind whipping through my hair
The tastes, that\'s what brings me alive;
The bittersweet taste of the salt filled air,
The ink of my ballpoint pen, the words echoing in my head, screaming for the ink to write them down
The sweetness of my coconut water
The sight of it all, it takes my breath away;
The moonlight reflecting off the deep blue sea,
the crickets jumping over logs scattered around the beach,
and the cool water rushing over my feet
All of these factors together,
paint a blissful picture