Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Ravings of a Rabid Werewolf - Poetry by Wolf - 12. Waves
The sand feels warm under my bare feet
As I watch the waves, if you could call them that.
I’d hoped to spend my day off surfing,
Though Mother Nature seems to have foiled that plan.
I walk along the beach hoping to see something worth riding;
Just one swell to give reason to get out the board.
Yet this day it is not to be as other wetsuit clad bodies mill around;
In the search for that wave, that thrill, that joy of gliding across the water’s surface;
That feel of a shortboard, fish or gunboard under your feet,
As you try to tame the ocean and command the waves.
- 10
- 3
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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