The Moving PaintingA Poem by Iris Jaynegetting in a relationship is just as hard as working on it when you're in.They met like all the others did; Hearts sounded like seagulls’ wings above a calm ocean; Rhythmic, Nervous, But certain of every beat. Waves crashed the side of a cliff, Higher and higher it went, Splashing the world with color, Filling the air with sprinkles of thrill, Breaking all reserved refinement. But waves could only go so far, For the sea beckons for it to come back home. It will try to reach that up once more, But not as high as long before Because waves weaken, and cliffs erode… But the seagulls’ wings will continue to flutter, Gliding, Hovering above the mat of blue, Just watching for them to try again. Because waves do fail, And cliffs do wane, But they’ll always find a way to meet… When their days change into nights, When the moon is up and full. And no matter how many sunsets pass, The seagulls will never tire to watch, And wait… And wait… And wait… Until theyagain collide as high as they once did. © 2010 Iris JayneAuthor's Note
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