A beach of a Morning...
Hard, packed sand
From last night's rain...
Gull wanting a cracker.
And, the Mother overseas
All...foam waves leaving
Stories from Montezuma,
Sunken ships of empires.
The sand speckled
Driftwood is packed.
Cup of sand hoarded.
Towel shook soundly.
Back to today, back
To air conditioning...
Back to papers...
Not really seen, felt.
Sight, left with the
Heart, will always
Remain.
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