Sunday, 19 July 2009

and it is through the swelling of the tide
that the water falls and erodes
bringing footsteps and new cardigans
freshly knitted into our minds.
the fizz and crackle of brown foam colliding,
obliterating all obstacles
and bringing the beginning of new horizons,
impregnated with noise
and wind
and whisperings.

the ocean is a mother,
a tightly held pair of seaweed freckled hands
holding always onto the shore
soothing the wild wilderness of the wind.

Her crown fixed forever
despite the rough tide of swinging hips.

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