like an innocent


 like an innocent, in the sand to speckle my hand
 granules so fine, the whole landscape does define
the coolness on my skin, a trail of sand between my fingers thin
under my fingernails... the sand trails .
do i care the grit, that under my nail does sit?
seemingly unkept hands, further sand in my hair strands
the freedom of letting go, my demeanor does show
nothing better than to be an innocent and thus, joyous play implement.

RB.


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