On the Dunes, by Sarah Teasdale
If there is any life when death is over,
These tawny beaches will know much of me,
I shall come back, as constant and as changeful
As the unchanging, many-colored sea.
If life was small, if it has made me scornful,
Forgive me; I shall straighten like a flame
In the great calm of death, and if you want me
Stand on the sea-ward dunes and call my name.
I realize now I can't wait to get back to the sound of the sea. If I could, I'd hop a plane tomorrow. Nothing centers my head and calms me like those crashing waves, sunrises, and sunsets.