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The Beach

He carries his board through the dead dry ground.

His feet burn and body drips as the sun strikes down on him.

The sound of the waves crashing on the shore draws him closer.

It is as beautiful as the siren's song.

The sound is a soothing and comfortng rhythm.

The sand becoming more damp and soon he will reach the shore of the salty sea.

Strapping on his itchy leash to his wrist he runs into the forever blue.

Struck by a wave he floats on his back and glares at the pure open sky.

He awakes from the trance and grabs his board.

Paddling through the rough and bullying waves he finds his lookout spot.

Waiting in the dark water, cold and anxious in hope that his perfect wave will rise.

Gregory Benazzi


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