The storm rages on,
an endless cycle.
Territory won and lost daily,
doomed to repeat.

Relentless waves of attack,
pounding upon steadfast walls
lined with tiny timbers,
encrusted in golden pebble-dash,  
the armour of Poseidon's minions
on display as grim defiance.

The tides of battle turn constantly,
but with each assault the fortress falters.
Foamy charges batter and breach,
tearing down the walls,
melting into nothing.

With just sand, sticks and shells left,
strewn over the battlefield,
the war is over...
Until, the next summer's day