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The Sea

In times of desperation,

I throw myself back to when

I was young, spending

summers by the northern

sea; browned by the sun

of Brittany, on the coast

of my forgotten home

I ran the edge of a cliff

once, upset over a

nuance that presents

itself as an injustice

to a theatrical child

I watched the gray

sky gloat over the

blue water spitting salt

into waves breaking

over a cacophony of

stones laid to rest

for centuries to

wreck weary ships

I bathe in reverie

of my distant sea,

The foam and sand

The market and the circus

the bakery down the street

lined with tall spruce trees

I feel the heart

of my former

self beating

inside me.


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