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Sometimes
In The Changeover
Sometimes in the changeover
On our way to perfect lives,
Drawn by the images our
Screens, our magazines,
Advertisers paint for us,
We forget that living is
A collection of tiny
Imperfections all
Working and rubbing
With and against each other,
Like the rocks, the sand,
The waves, the wind,
The living things at
The edge of the ocean,
All different, all unique,
All beautiful in their own right,
Dancing in the crucible of time
To the violins, the orchestra of life.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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