Snow globe turning like a storm in a hand
Over contoured fingers like a boulder on land.
Interior cyclical waves slide like tides on wet sand,
And we're carried in a vessel cradled at sea.
Each creeping wave that crawls up the walls
Changes rythm and speed as it rises and falls,
And we're caught in a snow globe of perpetual squalls
But cradled and safe and sleeping we'll be.
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Good poem, you truly are wonderful with meter.
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