IT DOESN'T SOUND LIKE MUCH
It doesn't sound like much - never does.
The shoreline reeds, bending themselves
over in supplication, seek to race the surface
to the shore. Sands dwindle into little eddies,
cast-about like tokens in a storm. The regular
roar of the drumming ocean, without a
cease, hits on and hits some more.
It doesn't sound like much - never does.
The shoreline reeds, bending themselves
over in supplication, seek to race the surface
to the shore. Sands dwindle into little eddies,
cast-about like tokens in a storm. The regular
roar of the drumming ocean, without a
cease, hits on and hits some more.
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