She Calls Me

The sea, a paradox profound and wide,
In whispers soft, in roaring tide.
She cradles dreams in her gentle sway
Yet fiercely claims what’s in her way.

A tranquil blue, she lulls to sleep,
Her secrets in the deep she’ll keep.
With rhythmic waves, she soothes the soul,
A lullaby that makes us whole.

But in her depths, a tempest brews,
Her fury in the stormy hues.
With crashing waves, she shows her might,
A force of nature in the night.

She shapes the shore with tender hands,
Yet carves the cliffs, reclaims the sands.
Her dual nature, calm and wild,
Both a mother and a tempest child.

In dawn’s first light, she glistens fair,
A mirror to the skies laid bare.
But as the tempest gathers near,
She morphs to something we must fear.

Her gentle waves, a lullaby,
Her stormy wrath, a battle cry.
In calm and storm, she holds her grace,
A timeless dance, a shifting face.

The sea, a mistress of extremes,
A realm where light and shadow gleam.
She calls to us, a siren’s song,
To venture where we both belong.

For in her heart, both wild and free,
We find the essence of the sea.
A symphony of peace and rage,
An endless, ever-turning page.

A Poem by Siân Williams
Images: Fuu J / Paul Pastourmatzis (Unsplash)

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Siân Williams
Siân Williams
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