I looked around at the green, lush foliage Sitting on the same dune that the coastal forest seems to spew out Thinking how familiar the shape of these trees and shrubbery is, How in a full decade it all still looks the same
Yet the dune changes daily as the wind wills it And the trees they stretch and wither according to the seasons
Yet never changing it seems
It’s time to move
I will miss the safety of familiarity, But not the drain of it