final decay

Dream now of the beach

Warm forever sands, clear blue water

Yet lungs strain to reach

Breaths that start later

And end rattling in wet-mold banquet

A mirage to hold in final decay


i hope i live long enough to make the beach in PR when this is all over i will write poetry and run a little cinema lumiere and make photos.

ABABCC Rhyming Meter


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