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Your Shore
There's a beach where the sand
Won't get in your shoes
Or stick to your skin
When you're covered with sweat.
The shore's always clean
No trash or dead fish
And the water's still
Clear enough to drink.
In your mind, I hope and pray,
There's room for me
To kick that sand around
And be with you on your shore.
Copyright ©
Robert Moe
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