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The
Beach Concert
Stretched on the chaise-logue of memories, I listen to the strings as they stretch taut and cut my heart. My eyes sting with the salt, as they pour forth the times gone by. A steady beat of drums builds in the chamber of nostalgia. Sea-gulls pick on the remnants of regret, as they sink in the pass of every wave. Building the agony of having missed the silent note of togetherness. Silvery moonlight dances off the lilting rasp o’ 69 as my forgotten desires sits huddled on the beach wet, alone. And shivering.
~ Ben Young ~
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