Bridging the blue and green,
Stood those rocks of grey.
The many faces stood firm,
with freckles of anxious wait.
Guarding the shores for eons,
have made them heavy with burden.
The muffled moans of the sea,
trying to seduce them towards.
Racing again and again to the land,
To steal the blooms in palettes of sky.
Succeed they will never,
As this has been for centuries.
The sky knows it all,
For it has been witnessing this play.
The blooms wilted, bloomed and again wilted,
But not one has been lost to the sea.
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