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The Perfect Blend
The horizon stretches smooth and still,
out across the sea.
A whisper, on its lonely vigil,
beckoning to me.
A pathway is illuminated,
shining o’er the scene.
And all my troubles are negated,
by this sight serene.
Forever moving, waves travel far,
flowing endlessly.
Giant theatre where all can star,
on a stage that’s free.
Wind, rain and wild storm, their schemes they send
lashing down with might.
When peace descends, comes the perfect blend,
two eyes adorned with light.
The ocean, glistening facets, tile,
setting sun turns red.
The surface becomes a smooth textile,
now the sky has bled.
A tranquil picture, an offering, here,
element is calm.
A woven dream so stunningly sheer,
wished for, cleansing balm.
poem
by
Ernestine Northover
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