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Tears Taste
In the midst of weeping with a salty aftertaste.
There is a warm embrace of light, not waste.
Some stories are cloaked in frantic haste.
This is emerging in the midst of the chaste.
Lost to history, the tales of heroes and baste.
I'd wish to walk to the beach and lambaste.
While immersed in the eons-spanning waist.
The place of plentiful smiles and fish paste.
Written: June 04, 2023
Copyright ©
Sotto Poet
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