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Storm Sea, by George Wesley Bellows
Barb Clarke

Summer Regrets

Summer is near it’s end,
I regret not visiting my
childhood home,
near the gulf,
where the sunset
weaves a tapestry
of light, on rolling
waves, at dusk.
 
The sandy beach
makes a supportive bed
to lie down at night
with stars all around,
the gulf sings a lullaby
until your eyes close
and sleep arrives...
 
But alas, I wake up
in the midwest
where the summer heat
chokes the breath,
the cicada hum
as I drift off
and  imagine,
the sway of palm trees,
sea gulls playing tag
on the shoreline.
I am a little girl again,
dancing on the beach.

The west coast of FLA. is hot in the summer but there
is always a breeze and water to cool off in or so
I remember when I was a child.

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