The Lighthouse
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The sea, a froth of blue, had in the night
erupted, and it now was brutally
attacking, rising up with all its might
against a lonely house too dim to see
inside the mist enveloping the shore
if not for the bright glow that it sent out
to ships, which as they met the waters’ roar,
were like small toy boats being cast about.
The solitary lighthouse, standing tall,
would not relinquish its strong light of hope.
Those waves could rage and on that building fall
with fury, writhing like a gyroscope,
but nature would restore its calm again
before the lighthouse let its beacon wane.
Written July 23, 2017 for the Lighthouse Contest of Eve Roper
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2017
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