Surfers paradise
A slice of a typified, utterly immaculate life
On a most desirable knife-edge
All according to one General Emilio Zapata
No such political insinution going on here albeit a never-ending infatuation of sorts
Stretch an already stricken imagination
A deliberate dice with deathly-death
Entirely split egos
So far from fastened to their homestead
Fed by the very same sword as the fish
Red-eared, completely stolen away
Time always stands still ’til placed upon one such window-sill
A forgetful mother’s memory-pill
Be oh so still my beating heart
A photo which lets her breathe all over again
Of her most glory-filled silver surfer – ‘Silver Boy’ extraordinaire
Wholeheartedly snared
Surprisingly shallow-graved
What a falsely enticing pair both heaven and hell-sent truly can be