The big strong sun has done it's day, And blushing as though at a loss, Is caught in hands of candi-floss, And taken down beneath the bay. From darkness small waves like white teeth Queue up to nibble at the sand. Small empires built by tiny hands Are crushed to dust midst sea-weed wreaths. Sweet scents of summer roam the shore; Sweep unclaimed litter here and there. And on the stones a lone deck-chair Collapses; waves it's stripes no more. A mile down the beach, near the peer, The big-wheel, luminous and bright, Spins tales of young love through the night, For all to see and none to hear. And up there, in this milky-way, The moon, a blind and sleepy eye, Waits for, in the cool darkling sky, A shooting-star that's on it's way...Birth sign: Cancer
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by bertie-bug box.