Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Quatrain Beach Poems | Quatrain Poems About Beach

These Quatrain Beach poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Beach. These are the best examples of Quatrain Beach poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Quatrain | |


I walk on the deserted beach
listening to the ocean song;
the breeze holds my hand.
Is this where I belong?

I leave my footprints in the sand
feeling the grains between my toes.
Is it too late to dream,
I ask. Only God knows!

Premiere Contest No. 7 by Skat A

Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain | |

A Walk On The Beach

Rough winds blowing
Washing wild waves ashore
Scattering about seashells
It always makes me want more

Copyright © Brittany Larson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain | |

Picnics and Sand

Now I know that beach side picnics and sand
No matter how careful the planning go hand in hand
But it seems whether you sit or whether you stand
Nothing quite goes as you had planned

It doesn't really care where it goes
And I don't just mean between your toes
In your eyes and up your nose
And it doesn't smell like a bleeping rose!

In my shoes and down my shorts
I believe with demons this stuff consorts
To going naked I might resort
And I know I've swallowed at least a quart

When this picnic is over and back home I go
To the warm water of the showers flow
I'll wonder if your troubles are the same as mine
Do you have sand stuck where the sun doesn't shine?

©Donna Jones

Copyright © Donna Jones | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

Tropical Paradise

Birds doth fly above the sky,
flowers fair and nigh;
as the sun comes shining by,
wet white sand to dry.

Soft the breeze from gentlest seas,
sweetly strums guitar;
lassie sings of love and sees
sailor from afar.

19 April 2015

Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain | |

Lullaby of the Night Crescent

Hold my hands and sing me to sleep

Before the dreams sink too deep

Through the night walk me to the shore

To a land where greetings are peaceful snores


Let the moon talk about the day

Let it tell off our journey to the bay

Let the stars carry me with the morning breeze

Back to the fields, the empty willow trees


Let the wintersun embrace the darkness in my head

Let it lift my soul from beneath the bed

Down the beach and on the shore

On the clouds with worries no more


Free of speech, my mind sinks to sleep

Free of love my heart trembles to keep

Free of fear, my shudders float astray

Free of noises my ears chase away


To safety to nothing make me see

To claim a state I may never be

Take me to the old willow tree

Where the white snow buried me

Copyright © Ziad Gadou | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain | |

White And Red Lighthouse Sentinel

Enraged muddy storm surges, crashed against
The white and red frame ocean shore tower
Panicking with a foreboding horror
The valiant old sailor gained strong power 

Hurricane wind blows like a howling wolf
Darkening the afternoon in umbra
Clouding the vision of the azure sky
Eclipsing golden sun with penumbra

Escaping downstairs to preserve his life
Prayed fervently to calm his distressed soul
Ascertaining it was an angst nightmare
Reassuming the protection controul

For Sentinel Quatrain Form - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
First Place

Copyright © Nayda Ivette Negron | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain | |

The Kite - For Contest

The Kite

It was great fun at the Jersey Shore
     flying our kite up high and away.
It is said, 'what goes up, must come down'
     when laws of gravity have their way.

And so it did with a steep nose dive,
     heading, it seemed, to the soft white sand.
But with a will of its own it chose
     a cottage rooftop chimney to land.
Our kite went up, up high and away,
     but only came down part way, that day.

Sandra M. Haight

Contest: What Goes Up, Must Come Down
Sponsor: Catie Lindsay
Judged: 03/07/2016
Ocean Beach at the Jersey Shore, 2010.  An electric company utility truck tried to take the kite down, but couldn't reach it with their bucket.  Our kite was still there the next summer in 2011 but eventually was gone in 2012.

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain | |


Miles of broken, sunbaked seashells,
resembling pieces of porcelain of lesser value,
lying across a populous beach subdued by misty blue,
as hungry sea-gulls pounce the fiddler's crabs..

The beach entertainer draws huge crowds;
singing funny songs and making comic skits
by spicing up his unique modus operandi,
and modestly mocking his modus vivendi...

He has never made lots of money,
but settles for dollar bills to earn their sympathy;
dressed in tight and colorful ministrel's attire,
he amuses the public with his monkey-shine...

And he pulls out his fiddler and the crowds go wild,
awakening, by its high-pitched sound, a dope fiend,
who has built a temporary shack threatened by the blowing sand;
He puts on his sunglasses and disappears in the groovy sunshine...

The beach entertainer follows him, leaving everyone behind
saying," Sorry, brother...I didn't mean to wake you up, the bum turns around  taking off his lenses.
and exclaims, " Music doesn't fill an empty and aching belly...and cheer up a feeble mind! "
" Here's all I got...take it and get something to eat!" He says stretching his hands.

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Quatrain | |

Agony And Ecstasy

Cascading waves wash ashore,
tickling our toes as we stroll.
And moonbeams set ten thousand
jewels sparkling on the shoal.

Smiles summon sweet emotions,
walking the beach hand in hand.
And under a starry sky,
we build castles out of sand.

Romantic sparks ignite flames
of passion by a calm sea.
And pausing time, fledgling souls
unite for eternity.

Hopes and tears equally shared,
define essence of living.
And yet, love offers a joy
that’s found only in giving.

Agony and ecstasy,
meld to greet each hungry kiss.
And consumed by desire’s fire,
we've never felt love like this.

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain | |

Out of Water

Here on the shore, no voices spoil 
my peaceful time of early morn.
He comes to beckon where sands roil 
on pristine beach as tides are born.
I call to calm the wind and sea
with victory of a rising sun.
Stirring the silence, he waits for me
to wash in waves before days done.
He guides me to his ocean deep
where blues and greens blend holding hands.
We laugh and watch the dolphins leap.
Then dive to rest on silky sand.
There on the ocean floor, I leave
my every worry, stress and care.
We rise to surface where we weave
our hopes and dreams, tomorrows shared. 
Caressing salted skin, we sleep
here on the shore, no voices spoil.   
Then out of water, blue oceans weep;
waves crash with dreams where harsh sands roil.

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain | |

On the Beach

The autumn sky is overcast.
The choppy sea is murky grey.
The flustered waves flop on the sand
where the two brothers are at play.

Their trousers rolled up to the knees
they tease the water with bare toes.
Each foot in turn sinks with a squelch
then up it comes and backward goes.

The boys have fun and run about.
The air is cool but they don’t care.
They do not miss the hidden sun;
Of sighing breeze are unaware.

Oh to be young and free of thoughts
that could lay heavy on the mind
and for a moment turn the clock
to distant years left far behind!

Paul Callus ~ 28th October 2015
Contest: Oil Paintings 1-2-3
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Placed 1st

[Inspired by an Eve Roper painting.]

Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain | |

Pen in Hand

Pen in hand or board with keys
     Toil with verse and rhyme.
What disappoints might later please
     Hasten borrowed time.

Chills run up and down my spine
     To think of things I miss.
So much is gone that I called mine.
     Tough to reminisce.

Years ago on any day
     Far and wide I’d roam.
Busy with best friends at play
     Seldom around home.

Now kids huddle on the floor—
     Stationary fun.
Competing for the highest score,
     Sit instead of run.

Guess I’ll wander at the beach—
     Spend time along the shore.
Ponder all that life might teach
     Had I a few years more.

With inspiration from and dedicated to Just That 
Archaic Poet and the Quatrain King, Jack Ellison.

Copyright © Mark Peterson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

A Maryland Summer

Our Robin’s nest on twenty-eighth bayside,
strung like the Kite’s Loft display.
Free and now flowed with the tide,
as we watched the sunrise of each day.

Center courts of youth and bouncing Penns
pushed full throttle jet skis into romances.
The moon lit footprints in amends,
as Hope laid us down with chances.

The sun’s vixens sat on boardwalk benches,
their penthouses held one night Seacrets.
Tired of searching for pearls in surf’s trenches,
an open air preacher passed out leaflets.

Dice throws into Fate and riptides,
doused by sea foam and sand bars.
Eastern block girls ran carousel rides,
their accents glazed smiles and fast cars.

Ribeye’s and tuna steaks on the grill,
Harbor Island’s slow gas dock --
a seventy-foot fishing boat it couldn’t fill.
Canvas Sperry’s dried on a sundial clock. 

The one Turtle that sat near Jamestown,
looking up and down coastal highway.
The Greenest oasis we could find in uptown,
seagulls carried her eggs far away.

To days fully lived and expressed.
To what was held and what transcends.
To goodbyes and route fifty going west.
To that summer and all the friends.

Contest: Memories of the Sea
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst

Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain | |

Watery Sun

As summer’s hope dreamt it had caught him,
days tallied boardwalk planks one by one.
Candles became golden skies burned dim
beyond evening’s watery sun.

How I tried to help you with my friend,
but she had built a sandcastle there.
Only time and advice left to lend
on a beach came that one morning’s glare.

Another wound to scar that bled youth,
ran over before it had begun.
By the grains of chance and a tanned truth,
tides washed another watery sun.


Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain | |

Summer Day

To the beach, the sand , the waves A summer day with no sense of hurry Feet in the surf and the cry of the gull Appreciating a day without worry... Beyond the blue horizon such mystery Known to the soaring bird on the wing With a boat and dream I'd sail away To look for the answers to many a thing..... Just one day, in a book of singular days A memory now, that day at the shore But the essence of wind and the wave With me now, asking for nothing more....

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |


AT THE WATER'S EDGE As I sit here at the water's edge I let the sand sift through my toes I watch the sun rise in the east Turn the sky a glorious, summer rose. As it rises 'bove the skyline A burgeoning orb now glows A globe of fire then bursts forth As the waves lap gently 'round my toes. By midday it's a blinding ball of fire Pouring searing heat like Hades' pledge The beach's sand absorbs the raging heat But it's serenely cool here at the water's edge. © ELR 2013

Copyright © Miss Wattle | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

The Fury Of Poseidon- Sentinel

A clear morning rose over the copper-tinged rocks,
the serene sky stayed the same after down; 
but the lighthouse did not trust that calmness,
then a horrendous rumbling made it suddenly frown.

A apocalyptic event was to occur in minutes,
Poseidon rode his horses to impinge horror,
making the foaming waves resemble ghosts 
who frightened the lighthouse with a loud roar.

The sentinel's foes weren't pirates, but the waves themselves,
and engulfed by those giants, it could barely fight or even breathe;
and doomed, she heard Poseidon's voice in the mouth of whales,
not glad with the volcano's eruption making waves boil and seethe.

Written on 4/12/2016

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain | |

The Family Vacations

My wife is a hardheaded lady So when she makes up her mind Whatever it is that she wanted Is just a matter of time She wanted a family vacation Everyone must make the scene Including our kids and their families We are a group of sixteen The first one took us to Oregon To a motel on the beach Although everyone had lots of fun It was just too far to reach The next one was also held out of town A nice place on Lake Chelan With boats and skis and a swimming pool Everyone thought it was grand Went to Lake Chelan for two more years Then we found a brand new spot It was a big lodge in Idaho We all loved that place a lot We had that big lodge all to our self It was on Lake Pend Oreille It rained the whole week were there We played games inside all day Even though we had that bad weather The vacation was the best The place so big, kids played hide-and-seek Good visit, fun games and rest We returned there again the next year It has its dock and bay Water sports, fishing and paddle boats Then someone sold it away The next year’s vacation was different We rented two large house boats A week boating on Lake Roosevelt I got sick and almost croaked Then we went to Marrowstone Island To my daughter’s new beach place They caught crabs and clams, then bought oysters Crammed sea food into our face Then the guy boated to Port Townsend But when they were coming back Yellow boat died in the ferry’s lane They barely avoided a smack The next year it was back to Lake Chelan But at a different place One of the kids brought a small scooter Road it all around the place Two years ago, back to the beach house Played games and had lots of sun The tenth family vacation for us For two year’s now there’s been none My wife and think it is so sad To lose such a tradition Let’s start now and plan one for next year That is this poem’s mission
NOTE: There always seems to be confusion on pronouncing Chelan, but the locals say it "shuh-LAN" (short "A"). Also, Pend Oreille is pronounced "PAWN-do-RAY"

Copyright © Charles Sides | Year Posted 2011

Details | Quatrain | |

Once Upon A Summer Missing

(Dedicated to Silent One --
who doesn't like bigly words.)

After a gentle, soft Summer drizzle
Fine web filaments tingle and glisten
In rainbow beams of fusion sun sizzle --
Stirring all life forms to lift and listen.

It is the season of Creamsicle desires;
Thick leaf foliage, protective sanctuaries;
Creepers, crawlers, jumpers and fliers;
Time dilating into slow-motion centuries:

Conquering the beach -- girls so coy;
Never-ending hours of creative play;
Transcendental fishing -- such a joy;
Floating from Brooklyn to Tokyo Bay

Where the kaiju rise and we gasp a ghost
At their power and our sizable insignificance.
Flipping for monsters -- baseball for most --
Winning a mint-perfect Godzilla -- coincidence?

Independence rockets in the starry, starry night
Over rooftop celebrations of smoke and kissing,
White Castle, Coca-Cola -- and the pizza's alright!
Friends and lovers -- once upon a Summer missing.

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain | |


Over and over I play the scene in my mind.
The day I let go of God's hand. Only to be left behind.
My purpose in life is a long and winding path.
In fear of tomorrow. Scared today is my last.
Lost in a world that is dark and grim.
Everytime my path is lit my lamp is out of oil again.
As I reevaluate my life it's all 20/20
I stumble in a rut and land to my knees crying.
As I come to my senses I am greeted by a superior being.
Quieting me mentally to keep me from worrying.
With a gleem in his eye he stops to stare.
Then I get this feeling I have nothing to fear.
He held out his hand as if to Rise.
I could tell that he cares. I see it in his eyes.
Now when I look back there are one set of prints in the sand.
Because when in need God came to me and gave me a hand.

Copyright © Christina Hons | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain | |

Life's a Beach

I seek a dip in the ocean
Its cold, aggressive waters are therapy
It seems all of my troubles can slip away
With the rift of the turbulent sea

Walking across the warm sand
Its texture both heals and wounds
Reshaping and softening the skin
Working its way into every groove

That initial lick of ocean froth
As innocent as a salty kiss
Betrays the nature of its icy embrace
And the magnitude of the abyss

The current is stronger than I am
I am tossed and thrown about
At times I am not sure I will wind up
At the surface or be pulled down!

But once beyond the sluicing waves
I am in a paradise of tranquility
Alone, awakened and restored
I swim until the shore can barely be seen

Once home, the ocean scent lingers
Perfuming my hair and dreams
And as I nap, I am carried back
To the lullabye of the sea

Copyright © Mindy Gregersen | Year Posted 2011

Details | Quatrain | |


Salty sea spray hurls moist fragrance;
Waves lashing wide strange melody;
Moods change and swirl with bright radiance;
Setting sun glides ever swiftly.

Last light will fall upon the sea;
Sky colours leach with fading sun;
Dark will bring gall with fading trees;
Now each to each stray lovers run.

Cicadas voice a June collage;
Frogs integrate a croaking muse;
Night birds rejoice wild entourage;
Why be afraid as you cruise.

Abruptly see through broad walk lights;
Struggle to stretch your eyeballs wide;
Mingle and be one with the night;
Come now and catch the windy stride.

Unknown faces appear and pass;
Keep still and watch the dance of dark;
Feel moist traces of rain in gust;
Wet winds to dodge in weary park.

Let us depart these dreary shores
Where darkness breeds a certain dread;
Let's make a start to feel light more
As poise now seeds peace unafraid.

Leon Enriquez
28 June 2014

Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain | |

FEAR of Sharks

When my kids were small and for several years We rented a beach house on the Gulf coast Where the sand was white and the water clear And the sunshine would feel as warm as toast Both Bruce and Mary Ann would join us there In those days, we had the beach to ourselves A week of fun without a single care Fish, swim and see sand castles built by elves Just clear water from shore to the sand bar It turns to a dark blue where it gets deep This day, Bruce and I were out pretty far Lying on air mattresses half asleep Some people on shore, strolling up the beach We both heard them when they started to yell They were screaming Shark! Shark! The sharks out there! Scared shitless, started paddling like hell Bruce is a tall guy, about six foot two While at my best, I stand five foot seven With those long arms of his, his mattress flew Way behind, I was praying to heaven Then it happened, I fell off the mattress Legs hanging down and floundering around Looking more like shark bait, increased the stress Fear was eminence; then my feet hit the ground Waded to shore, Bruce walked over to me “Take a look over there, was do you see?” No sharks, just a few porpoise swimming free Yet, out there, FEAR was as great as can be

Copyright © Charles Sides | Year Posted 2012

Details | Quatrain | |

The Red Parasol

The Red Parasol 

Into this painting, I am drawn,
     reflecting times of long ago:
a beach with shoreline of tall grass;
     two lovely girls with skirts that flow.

How do they feel on this warm day
     in their full dresses with long sleeves
beneath the sun and air so still...
     perhaps, at times, a gentle breeze.

And one with her red parasol
     to block the scorching sun a bit;
I wonder if she feels the heat
     but with her charm, just suffers it.

And there, the cooling waters wait...
     so very close, and yet so far.
It doesn't seem they are prepared
     to wade in sea off that sandbar.

They calmly sit, enjoy the beach
     take in the salty summer air.
Two lovely girls with skirts that flow...
     one 'neath red parasol...just stare.

Sandra M. Haight

~1st Place~
Contest: The Red Parasol by Alfred Glendening
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Judged: 07/07/2016

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain | |

Two Lenses

In my youth, summer meant spending my days at the beach,
Trying to get that ultimate dark tan,
A large bottle of baby oil always within reach,
Laying out and sizzling like bacon in a pan!

In my mature years the beach is still a lot of fun,
I spread my towel evenly upon the sand,
Staying under the umbrella’s shade and never in the sun,
With my bottle of SPF 50 always close at hand!

written on 2/21/16 for "Two Lenses" contest sponsored by Sara Kendrick

Copyright © Genevieve Mika-Stevens | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain | |

Shark Attack

When my kids were small for several years We rented a beach house on the Gulf coast Where sand was white and water clear And the sunshine would feel as warm as toast Bruce and Mary Ann always would join us there In those days, we had the beach to ourselves A week of fun without a single care Fish, swim and see sand castles built by elves Just clear water from shore to the sand bar Then it turns a dark blue where it gets deep This day, Bruce and I were out pretty far Lying on air mattresses half asleep Some people on shore were strolling the beach We both heard them when they started to yell They were screaming Shark! Shark! The sharks out there! Scared us shitless, both started paddling like hell Bruce is a tall guy, about six foot two While at best, I would stand five foot seven With those long arms of his, his mattress flew Way behind, I was praying to heaven Then worst of all thing, fell off the mattress Legs hanging down and floundering around I looked even more like shark bait, I guess Scared to death, then my feet hit the ground Waded to shore, Bruce walked over to me He was mad and he said “we should kill them!” Take a look over there, was do you see The sharks were just porpoise taking a swim

Copyright © Charles Sides | Year Posted 2011

Details | Quatrain | |

On the Beach She Walks my Thoughts

From where I sit my eyes view
My darling, my dear, my love so true
Against the rocks, down by the beach
I long to touch her skin so peach

Her hair in a bun reveals her nape
Whilst her coloured costume graces her shape
A sky blue ribbon catches the breeze
To know she's my gall my hearts in please

She skips and turns and looks my way
Like a summer ballerina, she makes my day
Our eyes capture each others thoughts
For our evening together we'll be in body taught

A meal, a dance and a glass of fine wine
As our loving embrace starts our evening assign
Closely we hold in tender touch
As I whisper softly that I love her so much

The summer night quiets as our loving mood grows
With a click of our glasses filled with Chateau Bordeaux
Over her naked pert body I reach the lamp switch
On saltire blue silken sheets our bodies enrich

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010

Details | Quatrain | |

Sisters on the beach

Chauffeur drove us to the beach for a stroll
to get some air, fun, sun and sand
I remembered to carry my favorite red parasol
so my fragile skin doesn’t burn orange

Mary, my sister, went to her first ball last week
She looked so forlorn every day since then
Today,she opened her heart to speak
as the waves hungrily licked the rock she sat on.

I let the warm balmy sea breeze tousle my hair
She disclosed the Count’s son had asked her to dance
My sister, coming of age, exquisitely lovely and fair
had lost her sole heart to the young man at once

Next day, a bouquet of flowers, arrived for the Miss
with an invitation to tour the Count’s estate 
Mary was worried whether and how to kiss
if the occasion or her prince insisted on it

The deep blue of the ocean ensnared my eyes
Mary blushed and crumbled looking at the flowers
while I thought would it be ladylike and wise
to ask our ladies’ maid the proper way to kiss a guy.

My chance to date will be in a couple of years
I ask the rolling waves what to expect by then 
Surely, I think, some things must change gears
“Kiss or no kiss”, should be discussed like our ensemble.

Written 06/12/2016

Copyright © Sara Chansarkar | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain | |

Three Wishes on a Sandy Beach

It was a hot summers day
Along the beach I walked
I came upon a strange bottle
And it entered my thoughts

Hearing stories so young
About genies and lamps
Cowboys and Indians
Gypsies and tramps

I sit on the sands
Holding this bottle of old
If this was my genie
What am I about to be told

On the bend of its neck
Theres a golden rim
I give it a rub
As I get a feeling from within

I have been granted three wishes
But there are rules to be adhered
No resurrection or money
No more wishes will be spared

My very first wish
Is to go way back in time
To watch York Minster being built
A grand cathedral so fine

The second of my wishes
Is also to the past
To the times of the Dinosaurs
Earths giants that did not last

The third and last of my three wishes
American lands first white man
To protect whats rightfully theirs
And leave their destiny, in their hands

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010

Details | Quatrain | |

The Throne on the Beach

Plodding slowly across the sand
Walks a man his head hangs down
While clutched in his withered hand
The remnants of a broken crown

Soaring over untamed land
Tolls a bell across the town
Shaking legs barely can stand
Upon the man's face twists a frown

Memories come and memories go
Like the glaring sun and howling moon
As the ocean tides ebb and flow
They’ll wash away his footprints soon

Time reeling back a solitary day
When he was young and he was bold
He use to laugh and use to pray
When on his face joy was told

Wouldn’t be caught or be tame
Couldn’t be bought or be sold
Not by lies nor by fame
Not by power nor by gold

Traveling across the realms of men  
His drifting life was his own
Content he trekked where and when
Though he traveled all alone

He wanted nothing cared for naught 
Until he came across the throne
It quietly summoned up his thought 
Sinking its roots to his very bone

Standing vacant made of stone
It cooed its siren like a tune
Beckoning with its alluring moan
Glowing bright like the harvest moon

Overcome by simple fatigue
It held him in its gilded lie
Powerless to go another league
Promises given he couldn’t deny

He took a sit upon the stage
As the hourglass sand began to run
His fate scrawled across the page
As the nameless one cocked the gun

And trying with all his might
To rise as the day began to fall
Eyes now open to his plight
Found tangled in a labyrinth hall

Finding himself drowning from the weight
Stumbling in the failing light
Trapped in life’s unforgiving fate
Now it’s too late to make it right

A crown of cost laid on his brow
Thrust upon him with putrid hate
Nameless One forcing him to bow
Living hell served on a plate

Clinging to his dying hope
Begged for answers at heavens gate
Gripping an unraveling rope
His life, his choice did confiscate

Copyright © Jeremy Moore | Year Posted 2011