Say

It's calm.
It's quiet.
Then, like a swelling tide,
I've washed up on your shore.

I clench the sand in my seaweed-covered hands to such
a billowing extent until they tremble with strain,
until I shriek in confounded exasperation.
Then I lie there, in the sand, face down.
Close my eyes, and just imagine you.

Wisper out your name in a disconcerted tone,
Because I know that I'm still in a dream.

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