A long flat beach in my youth Created by wind and waves With dunes as tall as houses; Mountains of white sand Where children played. Storms came and went. The beach built up, Then washed away, Up and down, year by year, Narrower, flatter, minimal dunes. Then the dredges came To pump the sand. The dozers came To move the sand. A new beach built. Now the beach of my old age Has brown sandy dunes, Mo
August 19, 2015
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