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Jul 2017
At times the waves wash ashore
the fragments of a bygone memory,
little bottles in time, nothing more.

The gentle lull draws me closer,
to tears? maybe a smile or two,
submerged, just like my toes are.

Seaweed and shells, sit on sand,
and much like the present,
soon to drift, to unfamiliar lands.

It's cold in rolled up pants and sleeves,
and there isn't much left to see,
but there didn't need to be,
and so ~ I leave.
Composed at the beach.
Phil B
Written by
Phil B  M/Perth
(M/Perth)   
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