My Summer

The glare of blue and green sparkle in sun

letting all children play in sea and sand.

Swimming, digging, basking, all make it fun

for which it is called a vacationland.

The white capped soldiers roll in with a boom!

Following orders from Poseidon’s realm.

From wave to beach shells appear for heirlooms.

They sit and wait until some become whelm,

only for others to appear on shore.

The circle goes on and on sun, rain, snow.

For to forget the sea is to ignore

the vast beauty you see with waves a flow.

Yet, seas are cruel with roaring, raging rants

of wind and rain to break their sunny trance.

This poem is about: 
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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