Ocean - I

A Poem By Shailendra Aima
I saw him desperate
Throwing his wrinkled fingers
(he is aged for he has hoary hair)
clasping to drag away the stony rock.
What a misery!
A little scratching of a handful sand.
Watch the perseverance.
A never ending struggle.
A stubborn long wait.
Return of the mighty wind
The surge of the tide.
Where is the sand, the rock, the entire front.
Its gone, its gone, its gone.