The tide again slips in like a ghost upon the wind.
Its salty aroma filling the recesses of a mind scarred by time.
Fingers aged and worn reach out to touch and find memories.
Memories, unrestricted by the boundaries of timeā¦
A child dancing in and out of waves that swiftly
Find their end upon the boundless sands beneath tiny feet.
A young boy building castles among dunes of sand,
Where tales of kings and queens and loyal subjects
Ignite the imagination and take flight above the rolling swell.
Memories⦠cherished, loved, held fast within an aged heart.
And between the walls of a mind that longs to return to the edge,
The tide again slips in like a ghost, and children play.
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