Some days on the promenade
Leaning against rails flecked paint and salt
The churning water beneath my stand is clear and clean
- I am able to pick out the pebbles and pause to reflect!
Yet other days, similar to these
I stand the same, flicking at rust,
but the water flows a confused myriad of greys
while still beneath the froth pebbles play.
Appearance then, set in motion
equalled by temporal scene
must hold true to my efforts,
the essence remains what it has always been.
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