About our Sea at Scheveningen

There’s metal gray and liquid blue, the birds are lost in howling winds,

The desert skies push on the edge of our world built on their wings.

But then we smile and become the masters of the waves

And silence them on our shores before our skins meet.

I know it looks like Vincent’s sea when we fall asleep

But when aware and wide awake it’s always summer deep.

M.

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