Beach
I went to the ocean only once,
but what I remember best
is the wet sand at the water's edge.
I spent a whole day in my bare feet
writing messages in the sand
with my hands or rocks I found.
I decorated them with seashells.
Crabs scurried between my letters
as if they were eavesdropping.
Still, the things I wrote have no fear
of being found by you
and after long enough I
will forget them too.
That is the mercy of the tide.
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