Scribbles

Inches of ivory black venture out,
Confusing the maiden, piercing her virgin blue.
Endlessly absorbing her wash salty and cool.
Her passions as hard beaten circles of swirl.
She whitens with rage and heightens her pace,
Slapping as an insult as she recalls her waves.

Her motion is rolling dipping alive.
As a woman she is woken uttering a rippling cry,
Building within her in a mountainous climb,
Unleashed from her it tumbles over and on
Noisily dying, breaking to spray.
Hanging as mist till the moment to stray.
Then pulled back by the air to return to the fray