Its guide ropes know why we need guiding;
Its surface is dry
Though its pathway much worse for unwinding.
Its sea views need us to receive them;
Young surfers attend,
But the size of the tide doesn’t please them.
Its side roads show more signs of hiding;
They suffuse nearby
With appalled creatures caught in their binding.
It sees through the need to retrieve them;
They’re safer exempt,
And away from the main stock that seeds them.
Its ride grows more tired with the riding;
Though softer applied
Now that more things are losing than finding.
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