The warm water runs by, legs caressed gently,

As bubbles and foam dress a rugged exterior,

For the hundredth time this day.


Each stream traveling with its own paint brush,

Wearing out its life as it moves up the beach,

Until it dots the final “i” in a final gasp,

Before returning towards its friends in the ocean once more.


Meanwhile, I remain here, stoic and implanted,

Waiting for either a move or a more tempestuous wave to arrive,

As the sculpture around me changes for the last time.


As I determine to stay or leave.

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