Disclaimer: Why do you want to know if I own Golden Sun or not? Well, I
don't, so there. And from now on, keep your big nose out of other people's
business!
Now, for my poem:
The breezes sweep birds
Out to the seashore,
Where the clams shoot water at
Innocent passers by.
A young girl is there,
Kneeling in sand,
Next to her castle,
With moat and all.
But unseen forces,
From above all of our heads,
Are working their magic,
Creeping up from behind.
In one sweeping wave,
Defenses are shattered,
Walls are toppled
Before the incoming tide.
The devastated child
Runs (crying) to Big Brother,
Who is stretched out on a towel
Not far up the beach.
But he isn't much help,
With half-hearted reassurances,
And irritable "go aways"
Aimed at a whiny voice.
So with tear-streaked cheeks,
The child heads out
To try once again
With her shovel and pail.
The next castle
Is not so elaborate,
But a bit higher up the beach,
As to be safe from the tide.
Yet the forces still work,
Advancing so surely,
As the poor child tries
To shoo it back out.
Despite all her effort,
Her shouting and stomping,
The water is not cowed
And devours her masterpiece.
The girl goes again to her
Older brother,
Who groans and rolls over,
Ignoring her pleas.
The girl, in despair,
Plops down on a rock,
Defeated by tides
And a dim--witted brother.
The incoming tide,
Still rising, each wave
Spots a tanning lummox
On a tie-dye towel.
It gathers its strength,
And with one big wave,
Drenches the lummox
And then recedes.
The girl on her rock
Has had her revenge,
Watching her brother
Be attacked by the tide.
A.N: I hope you like it! And if you're wondering who it is, well I'll give you a hint or two. The girl has an older brother, and the beach relates. Somehow. To the game.
Now, for my poem:
The breezes sweep birds
Out to the seashore,
Where the clams shoot water at
Innocent passers by.
A young girl is there,
Kneeling in sand,
Next to her castle,
With moat and all.
But unseen forces,
From above all of our heads,
Are working their magic,
Creeping up from behind.
In one sweeping wave,
Defenses are shattered,
Walls are toppled
Before the incoming tide.
The devastated child
Runs (crying) to Big Brother,
Who is stretched out on a towel
Not far up the beach.
But he isn't much help,
With half-hearted reassurances,
And irritable "go aways"
Aimed at a whiny voice.
So with tear-streaked cheeks,
The child heads out
To try once again
With her shovel and pail.
The next castle
Is not so elaborate,
But a bit higher up the beach,
As to be safe from the tide.
Yet the forces still work,
Advancing so surely,
As the poor child tries
To shoo it back out.
Despite all her effort,
Her shouting and stomping,
The water is not cowed
And devours her masterpiece.
The girl goes again to her
Older brother,
Who groans and rolls over,
Ignoring her pleas.
The girl, in despair,
Plops down on a rock,
Defeated by tides
And a dim--witted brother.
The incoming tide,
Still rising, each wave
Spots a tanning lummox
On a tie-dye towel.
It gathers its strength,
And with one big wave,
Drenches the lummox
And then recedes.
The girl on her rock
Has had her revenge,
Watching her brother
Be attacked by the tide.
A.N: I hope you like it! And if you're wondering who it is, well I'll give you a hint or two. The girl has an older brother, and the beach relates. Somehow. To the game.