The Odor Of The Sea Poem by James McLain

Here I was,
there in the front.
Walking along the sandy shore.
But how, when or where I cannot say.
I see the wind upon the rocks
down
beyond the foamy moors.
Soft green tea made from moss.
The odor of the sea.
Waves now moaning, birds soaring
moving sand
we stand
between our toes.
Wind along the shore.
You were mine right from the start.
How long 'I' cannot know:
While you
your hand 'I' walked, talked
upon and out along
that shore.
Pre-recived us is-now gone.