The Ocean

The ocean breeze calls me closer every day.
I try to tell it,
"Wait, I don't understand."
But when have sea shells ever stopped their humming in your ear?

According to the angle of the sun,
my smoke signals should have reached the land by now.
But I fear my luck has just run out,
and til the end of days
the sand will be my most precious gold.

My ship will come most faithfully in just 3 days,
with white sails and ginger ales.
But until then, I'm swirling in a sea
and the single creature I can spy
will not tell me what it thinks of my interesting predicament,
it would rather eat me instead and spit out my bones
to the never ending
sea.