deepundergroundpoetry.com
Grey Blue Beach
Black fingers of the tree snake toward the slate skies.
Granite rocks do not care for the tireless assault of the sea.
It is lonely here but I am at peace.
Gulls cry instead of me.
The horizon is cerulean.
The clouds are bruised.
The moon cannot even break through
To shine her sad face onto the pebbles.
But a faint glow ripples on the waves.
Turning away, even the moon has
Forsaken the beach and I.
The gulls quiet, and instead
I cry.
Granite rocks do not care for the tireless assault of the sea.
It is lonely here but I am at peace.
Gulls cry instead of me.
The horizon is cerulean.
The clouds are bruised.
The moon cannot even break through
To shine her sad face onto the pebbles.
But a faint glow ripples on the waves.
Turning away, even the moon has
Forsaken the beach and I.
The gulls quiet, and instead
I cry.
Published 14th Jan 2010
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3
reading list entries 1
comments 1
reads 247
Commenting Preference:
The author has chosen not to accept new comments at this time.
18th Jun 2012 5:22pm
usually I pick out a line that captured me and quote it, with this poem I'd have to quote everything because that's just how awesome it is
