A Lonely Shore at Evening

At evening time I sit on the beach
Out of range of the ebbing tide's reach;
The sand is still damp from the high tide before
Which makes its way regularly right up the shore.
The waves flow so gently with ripples of white,
Appearing like frills in the soft evening light.
The sea stretches outward for mile upon mile,
Slowing retreating away all the while.
A few boats are bobbing on top of the waves,
Enjoying a freedom which everyone craves
The bright sun surrounded by orange descends,
And now is just visible where the sea ends.
Darkness moves in with reduction of light,
As evening changes and turns into night.
All is so peaceful, with hardly a sound,
Except as the light crashing waves run aground.