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Poem

The sea lays big glass hands on the sand,
spreading its fingers out as if new
to the shore. It can’t quite believe in it.
It wants to hold on before the glass breaks.

Poem

I saw three ships, three tall ships

Riding on the sea,

The waves quaked, and the fishes quaked,

And the wind sighed sorrowfully,

For on their decks, and in their holds,