An Otherwise Perfect Day
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How splendid to be fancy-free,
A perfect morn upon the sea,
Just the surf, my board and me,
And yet, a murky form ...
Obscures the water, warm.
Angled shapes there, dark and grave,
Hidden, deep inside the wave,
As I use my board to shave
Sea foam off the wake ...
A perfect turquoise break.
Sinister, and time to bide ...
Shaped for speed, with silky hide,
Churning shadows in the tide,
Patient for a chance ...
To end my wavy dance.
No way in hell that I'll bequeath
A piece of me to ragged teeth,
Of somber bulk that looms beneath,
This day is much too bright ...
To end ... in bloody fright.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2018
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