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The Weekend


On a warm weekend evening

Casting line on nearby beach

Teasing setting Sun on our face

Hours run like minutes

And minutes like seconds...

Cool salty breeze kissing the hair,

as we enjoy the tiniest bits.

Trying real hard to catch one.

And the happy smiles,

On that first catch,

although small the catch was.

Raising sand forts in vain,

for the waves wash them clean

like wiping a slate.

The sand bits fall from the fort

set sail back to sea,

in search for their destiny.