Storms

Waves roll in as I stand upon this ebb
winds play a sweet-bitter twinge upon my face My blood begins to churn Tall trees bend to the whims of nature
as I repel the waves' force to draw me in Gulls sing a song of ecstasy
maybe to this requiem I will become obscure There's a storm soon to fall upon my presence
will I bend or break

by Dale Cody

Other poems of DALE CODY (2)

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