Each wooden plank,
Creaking beneath the foot,
How far does it go?
Walking over the green river,
Onto the sand,
That's all it was,
Sand and grassy dunes.
All the way to the horizon,
Waves crash,
As the sun drops,
The colors
Like splattered paint on a blank canvas.
The bright balloon-like sun,
Fades into a cool night,
Leaving a trail of stars behind.
I say goodbye to Pochet beach.
Home I go,
Down the sandy dirt road,
To the little house,
On Little Jack Cape Cod.
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