1st year at UCSD (Scholarship Slam)

Sand at my feet,

pocket full of brocken shells,

each wave a rythm to a different beat;

This is what life could be.

The sand the wave the sea.

How far is my reach, from here on the beach?

Pocket full of brocken shells.

At-last I see my grasp. The sea at my hand.

Infinite possobilities and all my time,

to change, morph, and shape me and what I see;

To what I want to see.

A Castle at my feet.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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