In the quiet throes of the azure deep,
words, beleaguered with the salt of the ocean, drift serenely.
They weave, like gossamer strands in twilight, tales of crickets serenading the dusk.
Scribbled on watery canvases, they bear the imprints of dreams not yet dreamt,
a lattice of syllables lost amidst the luminescence of the sea.
Listen well, for the echoes bounce — a waltz upon the wind,
beckoning forth the curious and the wayward souls.