Aquamarine

The thunderous echoes of tides call

To the clouds, reaching for the carpet sky;

The shore with its back turned to the water,

Dreads the moment of the fall.

They await the crash,

The blow of white and overcast;

Waves imbued with teal and seafoam green

Mimic the empty heavens above,

Hoping to be something other than blue

Longing for the day that they won’t be aquamarine.