A whisper...

A timely visitor treads the sandy shore,

It’s origins as old as folklore

An ascent and descent, water recedes,

Will we remember the smell when it leaves?

As much as it sweeps in with energy,

Rushes in with perfume like synergy,

It is but completely misunderstood

Neglected or simply pushed.

Leaving in furtive discontentment,

Not knowing it’s place or embodiment.

With no footprints left to trace direction,

It’s humble identity be fast forgotten.

Desire is drawn with unknown condition.

Action comes with its own rendition.

All but moments before the culmination,

It clings on to the sand in reaction.

At its departure there is a quiet whisper,

Perhaps with water’s zen like twitter.

No shade left but a cool complacence.

Or no shadow to hide it’s countenance!