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We walk along the shore

You and I, arm in arm

foam curling ’round ankles as the wet sand

sucks at our naked heels,

each step a slight squelch.

A glint of glass,

round polished stones so perfect, my god –

beautiful and ancient, this water

this sand,

this sun,

low and golden in the sky, sliding toward ochre.

Where have you gone? I ask,

and your words tumble,

flat as stones

gravid – or is it gravity? pulls

downward, how they splash!

scattering froth and spray

cold burning hot

yellow as sun

 

 

by Melissa Kro.

via Daily Prompt: Yellow

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