Shorebound

The water pulls back,

a slow, wet sigh,

leaving shells and foam

for the seagulls to cry.

I stand here, dry,

watching it go home.

Others wade in,

their skin turns blue,

they laugh, they shout.

I feel the wind

and the salt spray too,

but never step out.

The ocean, a big,

dark thing,

full of what I don't know.

I just watch it swing

and churn and flow.

Always on the outside,

always the show.