NH ( / London)

Tide

The mone shines it's silent light,
On the restless power of the ocean,
As it endevours to break the sand,
That lines the barrior between it life stroke,
And it's death stroke,
But not the ceaseless rolling of the horses high on there pedetals,
But the bounding of the nerves within the waves,
As they spin onto the beach,
And smother the traces,
Of two young lovers romantic stroll,
And destroy the memory of a toddlers day at the seaside.

by Nick Hilton

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