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WHITE
SAILS
Photo
by © WEBSHOTS
White sails beating air motionless in the
wind.
Salt stinging my bow.
Is it me?
Is it the sea?
They all come to me seeking the life I can
give.
Wind tossing my hair.
Was it there?
Will it return?
I burn to touch the wind.
I burn to beat the air.
My hand is empty.
It will not return.
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