The Morning Surf-Riding

The morning was like a surfer on the sea

Pushing forcibly his weight on water

Ascended and skated under waves of light

Through the hollows of the spectrum and coil

He glided through arches of water on skis

His arm pressed against the walls of ocean

Balancing and manoeuvring each time

White gulls circumnavigated the air

As the sea calmed down the surfer resigned

Leaving the golden, sequined sea water

He landed on the silvery shores half wet

Behind him a drowsy sea at sunset

For it was no longer a sleepless sea

Quietly it played with all its pebbles and shells

Noon was there like the night for the surfer

Then I knew the morning surfer was gone