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Jun 2016
Shells coming and going,
Locked in to movement of the waves,
Crushed by the magnitude of their strength

They float in and out of beaches,
Leaving their mark on passersby,
Only to be forgotten with the next wave of treasures

They long to be found,
Crave to be picked up,
Ache to tell their story

Until at last, they're swept out to sea,
To the next beach which it will call home,
And into the life of another who will see its beauty.
LexiSully
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LexiSully
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