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Mathilde loves the rhythm of the ocean
And longs to live upon some windswept strand.
The simple line dividing blue from blue
Holds her like words that lie within the heart.
In such broad strokes the eye makes Red Seas part,
Lines that never end, and lives that do,
Drawn upon the inundated sand,
Erased, erased, in ceaseless, pounding motion.
All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
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