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The wee hours of the morning,

Brings silence,

The distant sound of waves crashing,

I can imagine the tide rolling into the shore,

Preparing the sea sand,

For early morning walks,

Their only sign left behind at sunrise,

Is the rippled pattern weaved endlessly,

Like a neutral carpet,

Set against a blue white hue,


Crashing waves, the ebb, the tide,

Their daily grind,


And now, let me find comfort,

And await,

My feet touching my neutral natural carpet,

breaking the Pattern,


Starting anew ⭐️