She liked to press her feet in the sand, hands

Wringing cloth around her waist wasting that

Smell of salt seaweed that lingers home.

Things were once so different,

With the blessing from the sea;

When the sand did not grate her.

But still she visits oceanside, the same

Each day, same way as the one before

Counting seagulls and life goals as they flee.

Things were once so different,

When she could talk with the sea;

And the tides came to call her. 

She liked to press her feet in the sand, lands

Across the sea captured her; a list to

See, to venture, to be; under Huanma’s eye.

 Things were once so different

When Huanma rose and she would

speak with rolling and splashing.

But still she visits oceanside, and says

The things that used to earn sea god’s blessing.

Those words bought her happiness, at least once.