Saturday, January 15, 2011


Even the smallest wave shapes the shore it sings to,
Ebbing and flowing with the breath of the moon by night,
Shimmering in the warmth of the sun by day;
Sing, sing, sweet wave--
The sands await your caress;
Ply the sands, little wave, ply them, ply--
And you will greet every bit of shore, by and by.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Healing B

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