Let It Be In The Sight
and the mind that's closing the eyes
reaching for the soft slopes of mountains
walking through the valleys to the side
of the fountains cut off from the edge of a drop
to sprinkle horizons with a moist grain of salt
rising on a dried out lip and see
the waves of deserts in sun burnt skin
a lonely surfer born in tide wind
who never looked for a piece of the shore
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Added by Poetry Lover
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