like a blue bird on the first day
she sits and stares at her prey

snow falls gently on the wet sand
the wind and the water hand in hand

she screams and scowls and gasps for air
with strands of long flaxen brown hair

floating in the waves she forgets naught
closer to shore are the memories she fought

then she remembers the times that she hated
and not too longer all was faded.