Thursday, 11 August 2022

THE STORM FRONT

 



The gulls screech and scream
Swooping above the cliff top
While white horses ride the waves below
As the tidal surge is broken to a stop

Fishing boats appear to dance
Driven by weather to the south
And make slow progress in the swell
Bobbing towards the yawning harbour mouth

As the weather quickly closes in
The gulls desert the cliff top
Making their way inland to safety
Waiting patiently for the storm to stop 

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SOME PEOPLE ARE LIKE CLOUDS

Some people are like clouds In strange kind of way Because when they fuck off It becomes a beautiful day