Patrick Wolfgang
AP English
8th
Wonder of the World
Apollo’s
chariot begins to descend,
Signaling
a long day that is soon to end.
The air
once filled with strangers laughing,
Is now
replaced by the tide crashing.
From
scorching to refreshing does the Sun’s rays shift,
Lying
in the powder, the cool sand I sift.
The golden
chariot merges with the royal tide,
Splashing
a spectrum of colors painting the sky.
Peace
and serenity flow through my veins,
Like
water in a gutter whenever it rains.
Gradients
of pink and blue overhead,
I doze
off in the sand; the world my bed.
I could
lay here forever.
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