Water.

Froth and foam
on little rocks
the blue casts waves
that smash the docks

Galleons fear
to tread these depths
The brave tend to find
sodden deaths

Little flecks of brown
on blue
the brave and the few
who disregard common sense
for a mainsail's view

The skies are filled
with Dragon's tails,
The islands ruled
by Queens in veil

And you'll find
prompting tales to unfold
are giants carved
from bronze and gold

Their arms do twinkle
Their hands do gleam
faces filled
with ticking jewelry
sticks and spires
Their chests do sparkle

They stride the shoals
and reach the depths
feet in trenches
Toes all wet

They watch the land
heads held high
and whisper stories
by the by
of the desert that lies
across the land
and the day to come
when water
meets sand.