My Cheerless Hand

    What is this wistful feeling in my heart?
    It swells up like the sea’s incoming tide,
    arriving as a gentle wave, to glide
    across my toes, then quietly depart.

    I only wanted just a little sand,
    perhaps a starfish, pebble or a stone,
    observe the beauty when I was alone--
    Today, they all avoid my cheerless hand.