The harbor woke beneath a curtain of rain, Fishing boats rocking on their rusted chains. You laughed at the gulls tumbling after a loosened shell. We walked the headlands above St Ives Bay, Watching the shadows climb the cliffs below. Back then every road seemed clear and true, Now every mile reminds me of you. The sea kept rolling, Storms kept sanding down the days, But some things stay long after they're gone. In St Ives, Where the water meets the sky, I watched the evening gather in your eyes. Were you becoming what you loved, Or was love changing you? Like the tide that leaves the shore, Then comes back something new. The cafés closed, the summer crowds were gone, Still the old streetlights carried on. I searched for answers in familiar places, Found strangers leaning where we'd stood. And every season painted something new, Yet somehow every turning spoke your name. Not the person standing there before, But the feeling I was reaching for. We don't keep what we love. It keeps us. Like the sea keeps the shape of the coast, Even while wearing it away. Every goodbye Leaves a mark beneath the skin, Not a wound, But a way back in. In St Ives, Where the Atlantic turns to gold, The wind carried stories nobody told. Were you becoming what you loved, Or was love becoming you? The horizon never answered, The ocean never had to. And standing where the land gives way, I finally understood: The tide returns, But never as the same sea. And neither do we.
