With fluid lines that flow like glass
and subtle curves that glide and mask
your shrouded secrets that sound
like the past
from which the world began.
Blue white foam
roars through your vessel
rolling until it lessens
again and then again and again and
whispering about dreams of sand.
Note- This was written for Poetry Thursday. The idea was to write a poem that describes something beautiful without revealing what the subject matter was. Check the comments to see the answer to the object this poem describes.