Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Book a room on the shore.
Number four, try the curly plywood door.
Use the big rusty key, the loopy pirate key.
The place is tilted now, quieter, yet the surf.
It pounds and breaks things, lullaby rhythm.
Ripped-up ribbons race by, soothing decay.
The breeze is soft, gentle eyes like daggers.
Curved sand is a salt-drenched confession.
Lay out a blanket, count up the wrecks.
Charm the Hydra in its primordial goo.
Watch the tide bury it all.
Use the big rusty key.

i enjoyed the playful imagery and the unobtrusive rhymes. nice work, man of peace.

Thanks Dino. This one's a time-shifting, sifting storm wreck of a pleasant salt-air breeze.. Caught myself wandering again..