Over Hills There's A Cove Poem by Sarah Persson

We walked over hills
With warm winds blowing swift,
The beach nestled snug
In the small cove below,
Small boats washed in,
Bashed about by the rocks,
Girls bathing in sunshine
With freshly curled locks.

A small seaside town,
Not a prominade in sight,
Just sea, sand and rocks
And the seagulls in flight,
The fishermens rods casting
Lines to the waves,
Before reeling them in,
Through the frothy, white haze.

And as night settles in
And the wind starts to ease,
The sun rests an orange,
Red hue set to soothe,
The moon rises high
And the night light is cast,
And the sea, soon a mirror
Smooth and settled at last.