by tg - Jan 2011
Behind a walling mass of sea,
Before a trench, glossing speaks,
'Dive in now and take your swim,
I'll cradle you as the light grows dim'.
Lean back to let the growl go under,
Forward to catch and ride the beast,
Nought will turn you into plunder,
If cresting white fangs are unleashed.
Abroach? Make strike toward the sky,
Your mass against his bossom lie,
Neptune toys and is not bested,
Look and see the next wave crested.