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At The Edge
Is there anything
Quite as wonderful
As love at the edge
Of the ocean, on the
Warm spring sand,
To the rhythm, to the
Beat of the planet,
The water kissing
The shore, the waves
Slipping in, sliding out,
Slipping in, sliding out,
Slipping in, sliding out,
The seabirds squealing
With delight at the
Sight of the earth
Tapping its toes to
The music of the
Spheres.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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