Slip slidin' beneath the moon's tender gaze, these boards, echoes of wood and wax, whisper tales of wind-carved histories. Remember when the ocean was a friendly giant, cradling dreams upon its shoulders? Each wave a ripple in the endless chronicle.
In rusty sheds and forgotten garages, they wait, lids of time capsules, covered in salt, veils of old stories encasing their form. Emblazoned with logos faded, like memories yearning to be unearthed. The sea remembers better, doesn't it?
Somewhere, an old man hums a tune that echoes across the ages— a song for the lost tide brothers. Do you hear it? Listen closely, it dances with the foam at the shore. A serenade for surfboards that never sailed.
Can you envision them? Little wooden beasts harnessing the pull of gravity, longing to ride the invisible currents of day-gone-bys. Their journeys woven into the very fabric of the stars and seaweed.
Perhaps one day, a wave will rise anew, cresting over these forgotten giants of the past, reviving their slumbering tales. Or perhaps not, as time simply continues, indifferent and eternal.
Further wanderings await: The Sea's Silent Songs, or perhaps Tidal Tether to Starlight.