The Surf

Praise those forested eyes
As I long to climb the most.
My tides mirror the perfect size
Tenderly touching the coast. 
Bitter mournings stress the dew,
Claiming the land with a kiss.
Sable waves bid adieu
And I question the capable bliss. 
Drizzle the sentimental
With the bleak, distorted rain. 
This time, I'll be gentle,
As you ride the current again.


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