Ten Words

While sitting on the dock of the bay,

Watching the fog settle into a gentle hush,

The moonbeam caught my eye.

It reflected off of my canteen

Sitting there on the concrete shelf.


Damn!  My coffee is cold.

I walked over to the fir,

Gave it a kick.

Hobbling over, I sat down,

And now I am crying on the dock of the bay.

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