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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1331817
childhood memories of a beach in Ireland
promenade

So, morning sand, morning bright,
untouched and smooth, reflecting light;
The sea silent and far away,
the breeze that wants to rush, and play,
a day so far off now it seems
you go there only in your dreams;
this stretch of undiscovered early beach
is all potential within your reach,
clean and fleeting and so sharply real.
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