Whispering to me,
The rocks call out my name,
As they shift their location,
With each passing tide.
The white foam outlining
The waves that seem to be
In an endless cycle.
Gravity pushes and pulls
The giant basin of water
Can we really see what's in the sea?
Or is it just a bowl of water
That we cannot drink
But supports so much life
That is vital to our ways of living.
Can we really see?
Jan 31, 2012
Jan 31, 2012 at 3:15 PM UTC
Whispering to me,
The rocks call out my name,
As they shift their location,
With each passing tide.
The white foam outlining
The waves that seem to be
In an endless cycle.
Gravity pushes and pulls
The giant basin of water
Can we really see what's in the sea?
Or is it just a bowl of water
That we cannot drink
But supports so much life
That is vital to our ways of living.
Can we really see?
Request permission to use this poem