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Writer's pictureKathia Marie

Mother's Beach

The waves were beautiful, Gray.

They teased the wet rocks, beneath my feet,

As the sun, slowly set before us.


You sat on the rocks, just above,

Cautiously holding out your hand toward me

With a gentle smile on your face.


I stood in my little blue dress,

Smiling back as the sky turned dark.

It was such a pretty lie, Gray.

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