Gentle waves, lapping at the shore. Pushing sand, swirling shells, knocking edges off of broken glass and sanding smooth the rough tree branch. This is the sea. The sea and me had a meeting today. Just a look and a little touch I thought. I’ll go down gently and rest my fingers, maybe the whole of my hands in her gentle kiss. She laughed. Splash. Her bounds are not a respecter of my person, particularly my shoes. Up and over the tops of them she plays, giggling as she pulls back away, coming in one more time, more gently than before to kiss my feet goodbye and send me on my way. Back up the shore to the dry land above. How silly she must think me, that in my pride I thought it was me who set the bounds of the sea. Who knew her nature and could read her signs. I am illiterate and slow but yet I am also a lover. So slow that I be, I will keep coming back to the sea. To test her bounds and touch her lips. I am in love you see even though the sea laughed at me.
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