- Jon Moore
Surreal is real
On all that thrive
This fantasy place
Abounds with life
Silence calls
Broken only by roar
Gentle topplings
Just off shore
Beach go’ers stoop
To pluck treasures
From where the sand droops
Six feet deep it measures
Waves break left
At the mouth-like entrance
Then fade right
For surfer’s, no chance
Quaintly dimples
Ride toward that mouth
Out to sea flows
All go south
Right here today, on the Bo Bay
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