The Waves

By Wayne Visser

The waves, the waves are rolling in
Rolling in, building and breaking
Rolling in, swelling and swaying
Like an endless dance of to and fro
An endless march of letting go
The sea, the sea is restless still
Restless still, foaming and frothing
Restless still, tugging and teasing
Like an endless rhyme of ebb and flow
An endless ode of undertow
The waves, the waves in endless dance
An endless dance of letting go
An endless rhyme of undertow
Like a swaying march of to and fro
A teasing ode of ebb and flow
The surf, the surf is calling me
Calling me, rumbling and roaring
Calling me, crashing and cresting
Like an endless song of high and low
An endless voice from long ago
The tide, the tide is coming in
Coming in, pushing and pulling
Coming in, bubbling and breathing
Like an endless drawing of the bow
An endless wheel of reap and sow
The waves, the waves in endless song
An endless song from long ago
An endless drawing, reap and sow
Like a cresting voice of high and low
A breathing wheel, a flexing bow
The sand, the sand is shining gold
Shining gold, soaking and shifting
Shining gold, blowing and burning
Like an endless sky of sunset glows
An endless dream of sculpted rows
The waves, the waves are tumbling in
Tumbling in, chasing and churning
Tumbling in, streaking and spraying
Like an endless rhythm, fast and slow
An endless gift of art on show
The sea, the surf, the tide, the sand
Restless, calling, coming, shining
Frothing, roaring, pulling, shifting
Like a rolling wave of gifts on show
A tumbling wave of dreams to know

Wayne Visser © 2016

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