Wharfing the Dawn
Salt water taffy orchestrated,
pouring grain and sweating.
Spinning my silhouette,
as the dog failed his frisbees.
It doesn' let the sun’s rays wash over me,
replicate large wooden planks,
for heart boardwalking day by day.
Sandbars can sometimes be paramour,
idyllic feeding high memories.
So blue as seashells with a spiral pattern.
Averse to an occasional dalliance,
enthralling you, God.
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