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Water RisingThe storm will break any second,
But the familiar grains of sand were molded into footprints,
Two by two stretched across the shoreline,
a short stride, an exposed stain for a mark on the earth.
Grey lined satin patched in boundless stillness,
Revered, so it seemed: The calm before the storm.
What is it to be alone?
To stand within the shadow of the mountains or the sea,
Wondering whether or not the rain will ever fall,
Or if someone out in the vast world would ever understand.
She stared up at the sky with an open mind,
To her the clouds would break into dancing sunlight,
To part the water into gentle streams.
But it was all in her head, she knew,
Sooner or later a drop on the nose would signify the heavens to break,
She just longed for the sunlight she perceived to one day be the truth.
As final as the ending curtain on the stage calls,
The drops take their turn to fall one by one, leisurely in time, each to its own,
Into crashing waves against the coarse sand.
The tide meets the gre
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