Sea Poem
-Gabrielle Louise

If ever there was a muse for poetry
she is the sea.
She is the sound of crashing waves,
like passing trains,
and ragged sea-gull cries.

She is the grit of sand
The morning mist
clinging to the hills
like years of guilt.

The lace of froth
spreading round the blackened rocks
the taste of sweat
the taste of salt

if ever there was a muse for love
it is the mind,
not unlike the sea,
her tumolt heaving highs and lows,
and endless depth,
and depthless woe,
and mirrored vanity.