Subtly crashing waves
race eastward,
pushing up against the sand.
Perfect half moon smiles down,
urging a grin to my own face.
I could sit here for hours, certainly,
if only to make up for lost time,
enveloped in stone--
cold and impersonal.
The water seems to know me,
communicates, unspoken.
Something more meaningful must exist
than the buildings made by men.
January 2005
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