Raymond A. Foss Poems

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Head turned down to the sand
sunburn to be, on the back of my neck
looking for the little treasures
at the edge of the lapping waves
glistening wet bits of gifts of the sea
tumbled, exposed, revealed
for those who share the wonder
of the little children
further on down the beach
bits of sand dollars, of beach glass, shells
barnacles on the seaweed, the driftwood
prized possessions for my shelf

December 7, 2007

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