Where The Churn Meets The Grain Poem by Vera Sidhwa

I stood on the border,
Of churn meets the grain,
And marveled at the strict,
Boundary that did prevail.



Yet the blue-white,
And the beige,
Knew what was right,
And so it created a beautiful sight.


I noticed now,
Right at my feet,
That I flopped down,
At my sandy seat.


The water churned,
On top of the sand,
And dancing in it's melody,
I swirled around my hand.


In crashing waves,
Upon it's friend,
The beach sand.