Welcome Home Poem by Ryan Cole

Wet sand clings to the spaces between my toes
and to the wet cuffs of my jeans
as the low waves, soaking
wash away the evidence of my passing
As the breakers crash against the stones of first jetty
I taste the salt against my lips
The spray stings my eyes
As the look to the line of the hills
Engraved across all that makes me who I am
The horizon I know so well
have always known
Will know on the day of my death
The waves, the hills, the stones
They whisper in my ear
'Welcome home'