Waves
Three by three in a metronome
roar
Forming then crashing they
race to the shore
They begin with a swell then
peak to a curve
Of white crested wonder as
shore bound they surge.
The crest although white like
the mane of a lion
Forms a beautiful dangerous
alluring design
Majestic mysterious no two the
same
They crash with a roar then
become oh so tame
In a cauldron of sparkling
bubbling riches
A playground for children not
three evil witches
No omens or potions or
foreboding spells
Just pebbles and sea glass
and varied sea shells.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
