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