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The poetry of Kris Mercer


Ricco's Beach

The moonlight projects its eerie glow as the waves crash down onto the jagged
rocks throwing a fine spray of memories high into the air.
Tentacles of wind embrace my thoughts. For all but a few moments, before
scattering the salty droplets onto the glistening shore.
The bitter liquid slowly trickles through the grains of sand, reluctantly forsaking
its existence and relinquishing the past.
Slowly the dawn is breaking, but the unsteady light still casts long shadows across
my path and I am fearful to walk into the darkness that surrounds me.
The water's edge is littered with fragments of debris from an age gone by and
apprehension surges forth on the incoming tide.


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