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On Walking Towards The Sea

Maintain a straight line,
take time to look behind.
You'll find its not straight.
Beach ripples into furrows,
engraved against weight of sand.
Waves fall back on themselves,
while swallowing hollowed out shells.
Each worn smooth and manoeuvred by tides.
Never brought ashore in the same place.

4 Feb 19

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I really liked this poem, I added this to my favorites.
Check this out dinosaur hunting games.
 — alvinrr

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