Hearts of the Ocean

She was raised around the smell of fresh seaweed and sand,
never really understanding the difference between her mother’s humming and the constant shh of the beating ocean.
By the age of two, everyone was able to hear her little pitter patter
of miniature feet romping around the house, and her
fascination with the caw-caws flying over her head grew,
like a tree that had once been a sprout, but grew over the years
with the drip drop of rain splashing down at a constant pace,
as if each drop took its time to nurture the “what had once been”, a simple stem.

We all know the adventurous spirit of 10 year-olds,
and by the time not so little Ash turned her first big number,
she listened to the heart of the ocean going thump every day
pondering what could possibly be on the other side.
A city perhaps? That’s where all the boats went, with the “brrrrr”
of the motor slowly delving into the horizon and drifting away
to a place, that she knew she could not go.
She wanted to explore the glubs of the foreign fish far away,
and the silence of a world that wasn’t filled with worries,
but rather water.

She never stopped loving the crash of the ocean,
the peaceful sound of two battling waves that sounded like thunder,
that were really the peaceful shh of the beating ocean in her world.
As she looked up to the heavens, knowing everything was fine,
she faced a constant reminder of the humming
that she last heard when she was only 2 years old.

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