The effervescent waves,
colliding with each other.
Being together, why bother.
Confiding in their own ways.
One moves South,
another North.
Towards a bout with a beach,
bringing forth each,
tinier waves that will copy them,
When does a wave die?
Is it the seagulls distant cry,
that accompanies his fate?
The waves of late,
mourned only by the sea,
that beautiful water, she loves thee.

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