Chilling beams of water washing against my Face as I sit weary upon the dock
Air drenched with a smell of salt and sand
Around the bend, washed to shore, Treasures, trinkets, and simple shells that Children take home proudly
Just behind me
Two quarreling lovers and to my left a child At play.
Gloomy faces of passerby's who seem not To enjoy the fragile streams pouring from The heavens softly
I shift my weight, my back propped on the Dock my legs dangling at the ledge
The dancing fish come to say their Salutations before scurrying from the Fragile bullets of rain
And was then, I realized that
Not the ocean nor the people here, saw the beauty in the drenching weather
Twas only the child and I who welcomed it.
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