Ocean Storm
This is a fictional prose poem I wrote sometime junior year for my Women in Literature & History class.
Ocean Storm
The beautiful waters of the ocean are worth so much more during a violent storm. Although to a sailor, a vicious storm means possible death, to one with a creative mind it is the most beautiful thing on Earth. As the harsh winds of the angry rainstorm blows fierce waves through the entire ocean, torrents of rain beat down on the dark blue saltwater tips. Luckily, I am safe inside of my summer house, watching the ocean waltz with the storm from my pitcher window. Simply watching from afar is not enough for me, and though my mother tells me it is far too dangerous to venture outside, I wiggle out of my safe window and fall to the soft, wet sand below me. My bare feet are tickled with every step I take in the tiny part of sand hidden by the large roof jutting out from our summer home. The air is thick and muggy with the humidity of a hot summer in July, so thick that I feel like I am trying to swim through the murkiest part of the deep blue ocean. The storm is hitting its worst now. The severe winds shake my body and suddenly I begin to shiver, though the thermometer read no less than eighty degrees last time I saw it. The hot white lightning strikes the cold blue ocean many times; and though the bolts are miles away, they appear to be dancing along the top of the ocean, teasing it with its fierce light and unbelievable power to kill.
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