Sandy Toes

Sand is always unsteady
Never still
Where will it end up
Stop stirring

When will the breeze tire
Break free
Will it escape the moon,
Or clap

With a sizzling audience
Carrying warmth
Swirl through cracked roads
Remaining fluid

Rubbing the darkest corners
As freed grains
Burring unfamiliar wisdom
In the glass

By Amaury Genao

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