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Hope Mar 2017
The twenty meter wave curls itself,
Upwards, ever upwards
As it rolls it's way towards the beach
Foam bursting, rippling around it,
Watchers screaming in terror,
The wave gaining on the beach crew,
Always bigger, everlasting,
Never seizing to slow,
The mighty wave thrusts itself forwards,
At the peak of it's triumph,
Crushing the beach below it,
Tall cliffs crumbling,
Trees snapping in half like twigs,
Spray everywhere in sight,
But no one was hurt,
Everyone in safety.
Hope Mar 2017
Her eyes are blue, sparkling blue
Her jet black hair long

She wears a wicked smile though
And she does not get along

— The End —