“Look at that seascape. Just like the beach back home.” I stepped closer, sure I could smell the tang of salt in the air. I admired the whorls in the paint that gave life to the waves.
“Tall Ship on a Lonely Sea,” read Meg.
Indeed, there it was, silhouetted in the darkening sky, a lone star twinkling above.
“I must go down to the sea again…” I whispered the first line of the poem.
As though this was a key, the frame clicked open. We peered through the doorway and smiled in delight at the perfect beach before us.