Seaface.

What must the stone feel like?
The anticipation of the coming wave,
It can see it from afar,
The buildup, the sound of a beginning.

What must the stone feel like?
At that moment of meeting.
After an eternity of waiting,
The milliseconds of contact.

What must the stone feel like?
When the wave retreats just as quick.
No promises taken,
No reasons given,
Left with the gift of its essence of the companionship that once was.

After all, the stone belongs to the earth.
Constants, both of them.
And the wave has the sky.
Ever moving, ever changing.