Out of the ocean

Hither thee softly foots across thee ground
stroking gently across gravel soot and leaves
formed in waters mirth and yet so quiet a sound  
travailing upon moors approach say and weave

footsteps follow ever moor always behind those they ardour
differ mangled brush of the fury tail blows in the wind
from sea to sand brought up to grounded floor
why lust for ever more when all has been

the murky lake covered in green lime up to brim
some pale sheep has yet to swim in the deep end
newts still around the rippling waves from fishes fins
just a pond better yet hit the hey or turn the bend

a sellers tail if not material then better to lend
big ben at quarter to ten strikes a chime
to quiver and shake this time my friend
then the same yet again another follower behind