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Warm Wave


"Hey Pete" on the end of a line

a warm voice, a running wave

a girl unseen for eighteen months

and we'll meet on Thursday


a mind's glimpse of a half lost face

and the day she wore only grey

then another time of purple and pink

yellow tied back hair

a frangipani scent

now, so well washed away


a long, long wait for a sea side girl

a flash recall of her near lost face

am I soon to feel those gripping arms?

as the wave is rushing my way

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