violent ocean waves,

ebb and flow,

down by the dock,

a salty symphony of sound,

tides rise up and then recede,

following a cadence that can soothe, then pierces,

while the broken heart crashes in the middle of a tidal wave

and gets lost at sea

wind whispers through the trees,

crying a lullaby to put the mind at ease,

as leaves ruffle to a divine rhythm,

symphony in a jagged line,

lacking melody, the air grows stale and cold,

a soulful song that clamps up the moment it is sung

Fred Aiken Writing