The waves crash down upon the sand,
A power I don’t understand.
The salty spray upon my face,
In this wild and lonely place.
The tide pulls back into the deep,
Where all the ancient secrets sleep.
I listen to the roaring sea,
And let it wash the grief from me.
Growing up by the ocean, Chloe’s work is deeply tied to the rhythm of the tides. She writes about the roaring sea, endless summer nights, and the bittersweet nature of fleeting coastal romances. Her debut...
The grass is short, the wind is high,Between the ocean and the sky.I stand upon the crumbling verge,And...
The crickets sing their evening tune,Beneath a glowing, silver moon.The campfire sparks fly up so high,To join the...