Shored
The sea’s silver ripples gently undulate
to call upon the coast and tease my feet.
I am but a child. A threat, not a sign;
they let me play in the breeze and brine.
Waves in wild gyration join my summer dance,
to flash and crash upon the rocks and sand;
on to the sea, they buck then rush back to shore.
Bruised, I grope... fall...try to rise once more.
Ocean tides, crimsoned by the alpenglow,
toss garbage and sacks of religious debris.
The atheists, thieves and the devotees, watch
the spit of the evil one stick back to his own lips.
Hourglass sands are mostly unnoticed gray,
and when the tempest comes wailing, thrashing
from the sea, how disappointed it must be.
I, the child, the lost, am safe and anchored...shored!
Inspired by Craig's Seashore Theme - Not for Contest
06 February 2016
Copyright © Kp Nunez | Year Posted 2016
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