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Rated: E · Poetry · Friendship · #1698446
Musings on the winsome sea I used to visit like christopher robin: when I was very young.

Soft sea grass wafts like fine gypsy hair,
As the sand is picked up and cast like runes,
And the gulls squeal, circling in the air,
As we tumble down from the silver dunes
Towards the opalescent sea.

White sands are turned summer scented blue
In the sea light’s soft, sweet, glittering
Glow. A mosaic of broken, glassy hues.
Iridescent light, alive, skittering,
Within the bright, bewildered sea.

We strike a match that flares up black-red,
Exotic against the beaches pallor,
Illuminating eyes, shadowing heads;
Whilst the skull moon: bone white and sallow
Is mirrored in the lonesome sea.

Burning the shade of a boiling soup,
Red coals in the yellow sand, we sit still
And whisper within our motley group
Like wimpling waves, our words rise up to fill
Us with our old, nostalgic sea.

Salty hair like weed and sandy toes,
Calloused hands and flit-fluttering sails
That flap like ghosts then fill and billow
And in the wind that twists and wails
Stormed out with us across the sea.

Seemingly endless days of sweet sun,
With waves of eton blue, that almost green
Of the English coast. Those days are done
But we sit in the firelight’s amber sheen
Still in love with our winsome sea.
© Copyright 2010 Dr Matticakes Myra (dragoon362 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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