Twisted and tangled within your form
Overlooked by many,
No one sees your beauty lie
Amongst the rocky crags of Point Lobos.
The day passes, the tide draws near,
Your elegance soon forgotten.
An artist sees your rhythm beam,
A vision to be remembered.
The Eight by Ten sets upon its stand
Pointed down with bellows drawn;
The meter read, zone three set,
Your precious memory lives on!
Presented in a silvery light
Upon the wall to admire,
A glance, and the viewer stares,
Your memory has been acquired.