A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

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How long will she last the storm?

With each pitch and jump, bow over stern,

She sits affected

But unconvinced,

Sheltering with a hand against the salty spray and battery of wind.

Soaked through,

She will not relent.

The sea may rock her,

But she has sea within her still,

And she will delight

Where the rest have lost their might.

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