the sea pulls back whispering
to reveal salted stones shimmering
bored yachts beached
sails trapped tired and tight
the wind whistles wild
with no one to fight
the wave crest circling collapses on
ten tiny toes formed on waters edge
the girl weak, wonders where willingness went
ten tiny toes breaking brown frothing foam
pulling behind elastic feet
marching onward to her first home
ankle bone submerged
sends a chill
pushing ice upon her heart
will it be over
as quick as it had
start
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem