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The Seam

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As a flat, narrow, gently curved seam,

I wend my way between sea and land,

I keep the two apart, it seems to me,

as I try to mediate their dispute.


On the one side the so called cottages:

huge homes with expansive lawns.

On the other, the sea drubbed rocks.


The wind blown sands continually

cross me to meddle with the properties.

The homes drop rocks

to staunch the sea's flow.


I provide a middling path for those

who cannot afford the homes 

or the wave spearing boats;

who can only walk the fine line between

luxury and Davy Jones' Locker.


Grandparents bring their grandchildren 

to an appreciation of the ocean's elegance

and the homes' beauty,

the sea's violence and the houses' interior rot.


I keep my vigil

though my efforts

to reconcile the two are,  it seems to me, futile.



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