Restless, blue-green water
Curling into angry fists
Groping the rocks
Yet coming up empty.
Soft, wet sand
Tracing an outline of my footsteps
Only to be swept away
By a white foam hand
That scrapes the shore and retreats
With what ever it can carry.
Small white scavengers
Patrolling the sky
Gliding on invisible hills of salt air
Gathering below
To hunt for forgotten treasure
All is guarded by ever vigilant eyes
Of white and orange
That at alternate turns
Protect the serenity

by Cheryl A. Caron

Other poems of CARON (30)

Comments (3)

Cheryl: You had me at the beach enjoying myself. Beautiful write. God speed. Lynn
Great use of imagery Cheryl....gives it a lovely touch...I could almost hear the waves....great work 10
I like your description of the ocean, make me feel as if I was there. Have a nice day.