Watch the Painted Lady,
striding on the sand.
Her face like colored plate-mail,
her pose which never bends.
The darkened clouds: roiling, toiling above
with blinding fury strikes the earth,
but shall never strike that painted dove.
The young men in the ocean,
faces turned inward to the land,
they watch that painted lady,
unweary of their end.
She looks outward to the sea,
and sees the giant crashing down.
One tear falls and breaks her armor.
But the wave, it breaks her soul.
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