©2016 Susan Noyes Anderson
Sometimes I curl my toes
against the tide.
Immovable, I catch
a swell of pride
and ride it nowhere.
Only I hold sway.
No force of nature
spirits me away.
A pity that I'm stuck
in shifting sand,
somewhere between
cool water
cool water
and
dry land.
dry land.
This week's motif was acceptance.
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