Winter Waves
Standing atop the cliff
Looking down the precipice
To the foam-crested waves.
Crashing spume into the crags,
I notice a small vessel
Being tossed about by rollers,
A reticent rainbow attempting to
Travel across the sea,
Cloaking a mounding rock
In momentary technicolour.
The wave, a prize fighter,
Lifts its heavy form
Only to receive a sucker punch
From the outgoing tide,
Ripping beneath, into its belly.
CRASH!
Down falls the crest,
Atop that tide who took
Its feet from under him.
He flattens under the foam,
Locks flying forward until
He lies out on the sand,
Utterly wasted.
Copyright © Emily Joshua | Year Posted 2020
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