(To Professor Beckian Goldberg, who truly knows what it means to inspire :o)
The sea- your endless waves creep on a gold-specked shore.
You hide with pearls in their seashells white and coral.
And smell like cucumber, so crunchy, I adore
your taste. But purr like no cat, your motor roarrrs.
Feet step on fur, the weedy silky hairs swirl,
today is never yesterday, and full of tricks your score.
Hard labor - constant pull, a moon call, rhyming stir
A drum of Wagner rocks, unleashed like maids of war.
Your blues - the songs of gales, its riddles - mermaid lore.
BLUE
© Copyright: Athena, 2002
Свидетельство о публикации №102041400189
Свидетельство о публикации №102041400189
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