In the dunes of peach-tinted sand,
Near the sleek glass ocean plate,
I sat and bore a thousand holes,
Each with enough room to lay.
On that still evening swelt,
I decided I might get away,
From the duties that crowd the week,
And hide myself away,
In the crest of the beach.
I picked an indention,
Large enough to lay,
And filled it with sand
To relax life away.
And cocoon me tidal cover.
I should only venture out again
At the pleading call of another.
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