I meandered along the coastline, the sea was almost calm
The path I followed had a sort of rustic stonelike charm
The gulls hung silently below the clouds of silvery white
I walked along without a thought, 'till day turned into night
I heard the tide roll in below my feet, as darkness fell
I couldn't witness what I heard, as the sea began to swell
I knew a storm was on it's way, and I needed to be quick
I pitched my tent, as the storms intent, left me feeling sick
The wind blew strong against the fabric, where I laid to rest
The noise so loud the sound of it, pounded in my chest
And although I never saw a thing, I knew that storm would be
Less than just meandering, but could be the death of me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem