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Blue waves crashing on the shore,
strong and shimmering with no despair.
Seagulls squawking knowing not what for,
giving all the nastiest glare.

Specks of sea glass sprinkling the sand,
seashells scattered upon the land.
Blue waves crashing on the shore,
pictures of beauty and pictures of gore.

Wind blowing free and fierce,
salty, warm, and smelling sweet.
But sharp like a cactus, ***** and pierce,
cutting a line where the sand and water meet.

The humming conversations, nice and kind,
sunbathers bathing ought not to mind.
Blue waves crashing on the shore,
sounds of love and sounds of lore.

— The End —