The Shore

The ocean swells

To rob the shore,

A grain of dirt

Becomes ocean floor.

Sea-levels rise,

Land once there

Is no more.

Water devours all in its wake,

Precious land once free

Becomes clay with each take.

Water our source for life

Is our pilgrim claiming

Land as its wife.

We cannot stop the tide

Nor run and hide

For it is all around

Like a silent assassin not making a sound.