I try to mimic the song
Of the ocean waves lapping onto my feet
Dotted with sand as tiny as the value
Of those feet in the untold of space.
The white froth of the melange of this aqueous air
Whisked by a tide for another,
Flooding to ankle-depth of my brown skin,
Darkening the ochre of the sand with
Wettened paleness of rusted grey sea,
The saltiness of the ocean's call
Overpowering the salts of sweat and tear
Like nothing ever could.
The forever flash of vermillion is down
For the sand is still sprinkled magic in its absence
And glinting colour is not the only beauty.
The rushes ruffle the sand again
And my feet sand-wiched between both
Go cold and blue with the taste of sea
For cold and blue and winter can be happy too.
My eyes, they behold the swiftness
Of this natural enginery, older,
Much older than all our ages collected
And much longer than all our breathes could ever be summed.
Larger than life and larger than death,
The ocean's gentleness evokes motherly caress
And my eyes shut down to its acceptance of love.
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