Beneath the surface of the blue, blue sea
Is a place I love to be,
Shall I bring lobster home for tea?
In the quiet beauty of the deep,
In that serenity, a ray, sand covered – is he asleep?
No, ever watchful, he wakes, shakes, departs
A hawksbill turtle, gliding by on flippered wings
Ever hunted to make those tourist things.
The beauty of his polished shell his death knell rings
Now the delicate coral garden reveals
Vibrant fish, gentle anenomes, horried eels,
And the beauty of slow cowrie shells
A giant grouper, stationary, guards his lair
Do I retreat, go up for air?
Or approach with caution and return his stare
A shark comes slowly into view,
Sleek, grey, yet fast and deadly - what shall I do?
If he is hungry - I’ll be his luncheon barbecue
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem