How time spirals outward like the sea,
And breaks, divides upon the lea
As smaller eddies ripple docks;
The stuff of time, tides and clocks.
Low-tide, high-tide; in due time,
The seas rise up to make a rhyme,
They smooth the beach with words of shell
And floating timbers wild tales tell.
I just hope those timbers aren't mine. Precise to the point, timeless poem. Good write.
Don't ask...I heard that the NEW BOSS is NOT the same as the old Boss...So I thjought i'd give it a month(June) post out a few, and see if what I heard is accurate or acrid! Meanwhile, I see you haven't lost y/or platinum touch with ye' olde' plume, Ms. Masterman!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ah, what a wonder of words! Superb in it's beauty and smooth flow.