Monday, July 2, 2012

Forced Writing

A tiny trickle seeps from the houses
Out onto the roads
Meets at the intersections and
Forms into streams
At the station the streams become a river
Headed toward the sky-lined sea
The tide flows in.

As the sun falls closer to the horizon
The sea packs up
And dives back into the rivers
And then the streams
And then the trickles
Until nothing is left
But the faint hum of tomorrow's tide

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