Made Not From Steel Poem by James McLain

She is; crazed no more than the music.
She/Her song, her notes you came to hear.

Her motion is beauty it's division upon itself
One wave her each octave, crashing unto it's self,
Poetry there within falling, her beating of his soul,
comes too my ear/hear it is the sound,
Sweet music, each strand that falls from her hair.
Looking with deep longing, He knew not where,
Walking out into it, up to his knees,
laughing/his waves softly tapping he feels.
He feels far off a beautiful pulse a vibrant song
made not from metal,
a pure voice that can sing.
Backwards underneath too her do I look,
coming ever forward to me and her water is seen
by the light of she is lovely, I float on the moon.