San Diego, CA, USA
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ocean waters swelling rise,
Setting sun that's in his eyes,
Watching waves with deep-down craves
And golden evening skies...
Shielded from the solar scorn,
Soundly fast asleep and warm
Waiting darkness comes to set
On the sleeping form, and yet...
Something from within is glowing,
Casting beams of light it's throwing
Into fast approaching night
Removing color from all sight...
As he sleeps, he gently moves
In the sand he's making grooves,
Sleeping, dreaming, soul is gleaming
With oscillating moods...
Covering body with his wings,
Dreaming of some better things,
Better places that to be
Truly living, truly free;
By the oscillating sea.
Fortune has it when he woke
There'd be in him for one swift stroke
Return to places missed a lot,
That place called home is what he sought.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
May he not forever roam,
And someday find his one true home.
This is one of those things I don't know where it came from...but it's there, and it doesn't make much sense to me...maybe it'll have a deeper meaning for you. Sorry I can't reply to anyone else's poetry (I had to conjure this one up pretty quick) but hope you like it and I'll be back as soon as I can!
Little Spyro T. Dragon