Standing barefoot on the beach
I recognize my countenance
in the waves;
lapping hungrily at the shore
but retreating when you
get too close
looking at the glassy
surface of the water
I can see myself so clearly
“Come with us”
whisper the waves
and I know I belong with them
I ask them where they’re going

“We do not know,
but it is better than here.”
BB

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