When developed, the picture became blurred.


He was laughing


His hair ran


Down his face like


Rivulets of water


“Perfect beach weather.”


Stumbling over


Rocks half submerged


The rain making


Up for the ebbing tides


“Hold on to me, unless you want to slip.”


There we sat


Breathless, amongst the salt


Cacophony and the


Wind symphony


“Here is ours alone.”

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