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Source:mykukula
The rustle of the grass
as I make my way past.
The hard waves against the shore
echo memories and more.
The soft feel of the white sand
as I touch toes to the land.
The cries of the seagulls
as they dip to check holes.
A harmony of the senses.
A feast to cover all tenses.
Past, present, future converge
to bring pleasure to this splurge.
