Do you ever hear the stories the waves tell, when the moon is just right? My granddad used to say there are secrets locked in the sea, old tales that drift up on the tide like lost memories. Tonight, the ocean's song is strong, almost as if it's calling out to us, reminding us of the days when ships roamed freely under the stars.
There’s a rhythm to it, like a symphony composed by the currents and winds. It plays a melody only a sailor can hum, a tune of adventure and freedom. Remember the old boat we used to play on, half-sunk and covered in seaweed? It had its own stories, I’m sure, nestled deep in its rotting hull. We were pirates then, searching for treasure in forgotten coves.
In dreams, I can still hear the faint creaking of the mast and the gulls squawking overhead. It makes me wonder, does the sea remember us too? Our laughter mixing with the salt and spray, lost to time like everything else that slips away when morning comes.