Born in blue ,died in white.
From far off seas she cried.
Fathered by winds from tropical hills.
Mothered by artic tide.
So off she set ,sisters in tow.
They dance, they chase ,they play.
Fishermen fear their shouts and their cheers.
Their boats they shake and sway.
And as i float not far from shore.
My paddle close to hand.
With one last breath.
I hear her voice.
As she sings to bag-n-bun sand..
Jan 24, 2010
Jan 24, 2010 at 7:49 AM UTC
Born in blue ,died in white.
From far off seas she cried.
Fathered by winds from tropical hills.
Mothered by artic tide.
So off she set ,sisters in tow.
They dance, they chase ,they play.
Fishermen fear their shouts and their cheers.
Their boats they shake and sway.
And as i float not far from shore.
My paddle close to hand.
With one last breath.
I hear her voice.
As she sings to bag-n-bun sand..