Ships in a turbulent sea get tossed,
As the storm blows fiercely,
Making the vessel tumble in a fold,
Panic and commotion rake it violently,
Cries and screams add to the uneasy cold.
Soon as a wink it drifts to the shore,
Tides and waves push it to a place,
The sandy stretch is seen in the fore,
It appears like a lovely ornated lace,
A sign of relief replaces the apprehensive roar,
As the ship embarks on a safe shore.
Amazing.
Shore is a safe haven,
To a distressed sailor,
Gold is a security proven,
To a fleeced investor,
Security is a blissful heaven,
Foolish risk is a chronic detractor.
Meenas Poems 