PERFECT

 

 

Brush strokes of blue and gray

to fill in the puffy clouds.

Crayon swipes of teal and aquamarine

to meet the neverending horizon.

Each wave swell of purest white

rises from the depths of dark blue.

My fingers reach for the canvas.

My eyes travel to the brushes.

I shake my head.

No painting is needed.

No copy will diminish the essence 

of a perfect summer day at the shore.

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