I live
Past the hills
Between the ocean and me
That teasing smell
Of sea-salt air –
Hints of it drift by …
With the memories
Of clean, windswept cliffs,
Of sand and drifts,
Of seagulls’ cries,
Of lullabies
I dream of the times
When I could freely lie
On the sun-warmed sand —
And of clean, pure air,
Refreshed from care
And of children’s days –
Timeless and forever.
clarakatalin 
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