Ocean sings for its waves were meant to die.
It had kissed a thousand toes but sleeked no rye.
Carried shells and soared them deep, (faded dreams)
Sands barnacled, (succumbed every glimpse)
Peace became cliffs, and mountain rocks,
As the ocean tried reaching by its flocks
Every single strand of ocean’s waves...
Broken like thousand caves.
Poor ocean, so wide but so deep
Remained still, for now she’s asleep.
But had poured rain when darkness wretched.
Ocean sings for she wanted death.
In honor of past perfect tense
STAI LEGGENDO
Postcripts
Poesia"When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses." ...
