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May 2018
The waves crash and
the ship rides on
into the dock
between the velveteen piers
as the wind sighs and moans
and the old wood creaks.
The sun beads the moisture
in the air
of the swaying harbor
as the rough sand
tries desperately to grab
the hips of the shore
and the boats all move
to and fro
in endless motion
against the bay side.
Cravings of the flesh.
Eric W
Written by
Eric W  31/M
(31/M)   
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