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Dillon Beach

Beneath a dusky sky,

I stare at pale sands.

I listen to waves meet shore.

A gentle resettling and shifting.


The natural drums commingle

With the laughter of children.

As adults playfully give chase

Joy made visible in the air's chill.


Behind me whispers hints of soul.

Invited in by evening servers

Absently humming the songs

Of these shining stars.


I sit apart, not part of this canvas.

Despite the waves that coax —

The voices that comfort —

The Motown melodies that charm.


In a moment of clarity I see.

I do not belong — I am strange.

An anomaly in a common scene.

As if I came from beneath the sea.


Maybe it was the maître d', confident,

Assuming I was new to the coast.

Asking, what made me come?

What's my length of stay? So casual.


Maybe, before arriving, I saw the signs —

Construction equipment ominous and silent,

'Beware' and 'Caution' warnings more symbolic

Of the destination than of the road's suitability.


Stevie, Marvin, and Diana keep me company.

As I shiver; the night feels colder.

It becomes harder to stay comfortable

And, harder still, to stay composed.


Eventually, I say goodbye to familiar songs.

These souls are welcome to stay.

But it's time for me to leave pale shores.

Under the cover of a darker sky.


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