Cold, empty, quiet.
A ghost town along the shore.
Waves wash up, alone.
Where once children built sand castles.
The tourists have gone home now,
taking with them their trinkets and warm memories.
But they have missed treasures they will never know.
For the real beauty they can never find.
Their presence destroys the essence they seek.
But they are welcome.
Because beauty is not only destroyed, but created with their existence.
Their fiscal remanence will be turned into brick and mortar.
Realized dreams.
Fulfilled possibilities.
And I will be here.
Enjoying what was left, and what was never found.