Driftwood of Perfection
By WolfsWhisper
Gazing at the clear blue waters, Sun streaming to the sandy floor. A boat bounces gently on the waves, Heading farther from the shore. Ripples growing bigger, White caps soon crest the tops. The sea is calm no longer, The little boat begins to rock. A gray blanket covers the sky, The air is damp and chill. Rain pours down from the heavens, Pelting the sea harder still. Lighting webs across the skies, Casting broken reflections on the sea. The boat topples in the raging currents, Caught in a whirlpool not to be let free. The howling wind swirls around, Ripping the boats tiny sail. It sinks down below the surface, The storm the little boat did fail. Rays of light break the cloud barrier, The sea returns to its tranquil self. The battered boat rests at the bottom, Nestled on the sandy sea floors shelf. The salty waters flow around it, Eating at the paint and wood. It reflects up through the glass like surface, A fake mirror of perfection hiding the mere driftwood. Written March 8th, 2002 © on Mar 07 2002 03:45 PM PST, Allison Nolen 0 • 10
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"Gazing at the clear blue waters,..."