but above blends blue bleeds white clouds of sponge yearning for silver folded into sky and by the rolling hills of dull-soot fly seagulls skimming the edge of waves. they plunge and crease into self as fires expunge the past. white lines snaking between blue dye. wind leads and rain trails bare feet dashing by-- visitor disturbs hypnotic rhythm. in darkness the boy’s lashes flutter closed and he reaches for the ball sailing through air, coasting past stretched fingertips and cease the shivering of palm tree leaves, exposed. waves coil towards land, slow to a black hue and I melt into silence, but not peace.
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