At the Beach

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I skip across a carpet of warm soft sand
And step into a sea of glass, crushing it as I would a mirror
And swim through a sea as cold as an ice cube
The bitter smell of the sea makes my eyes water
Water crashes, and the sound of it
Is as if a crowd has dropped pieces of glass on a hard floor
I catch an emerald fish and throw it on the sand
When it stops flopping around, I bite into it.
It tastes bitter





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