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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Dysfunctional Poetry

Or maybe it’s still in progress, I’m not certain




A legion of whisper white seahorses 

Galloping across the bay

Wind at their backs

Sun in their faces

The perfect afternoon

For them to come out and play

They’ll pull at each mooring line and piling

They’ll slap at the tugboat’s draft

They’ll bounce off the hull of a cargo ship

And mercilessly tussle any smaller craft

Bounding from one side of the bay

To the other

Washing the wind with salt frothy chop

They’ve been chasing the tide

For billions of years without tiring

To the ends of the earth

They never will stop



01 Apr 2021



Submitted: April 01, 2021

© Copyright 2021 ShadyBrady. All rights reserved.

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