Washed up on the high tide line on the shore,
A miracle lies amongst the debris.
A rose from deep in the ocean’s blue core,
Her presence on the beach is most eerie.
The crowds gather around to look and stare,
The cameras snap in action for the press.
On front pages she will be laid out bare,
How she got there, that is anyone’s guess.
The rays of sun spark on the silver scale,
Like lost gem stones just lying in the pool.
Her soft skin is as newly washed linen, pale,
Seeks the caress of the tide’s gentle cool.
The ebb and flow of the returning tide,
Carries her to the azure deep to reside.
© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.
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