The water whispers secrets only the night can understand. She kneels at the shore, toes curling in the cool embrace, searching for words among the bubbles of the receding tide.
Each crest a question, each trough a quiet answer. The sandy bed holds truths forgotten by sunlit chatter, spoken without a voice, yet heard with clarity amidst the ocean's hum.
"Have you ever listened to your wings?" she asks the gulls, perched like old friends on the driftwood stakes. Their cries are distant memories, echoing through the corridors of the mind.
In this solitude, the heart beats stronger, each pulse a soliloquy, scripted by the tides. The moon, a silent witness, smiles down with knowing eyes, reflecting her glow upon the rippling waters.