He's more than a normal man,
With more than fair share of woe
Still he lives life unremarkably
And off to work he goes
You'd never guess his secret
If you watched his normal days
But there's someone has his heart
And he'll always find a way.
On his down time, he will study
The contours of the strand
He'll memorize it's details
To replicate by hand
And while the rest around him
Go by in a hurried rush
He takes sweet time, to make love
To Earth, with his paint brush.
to the muse..
Strand \Strand\, n.
The shore, especially the beach of a sea, ocean, or large lake;
rarely, the margin of a navigable river. -Chaucer. [1913 Webster]
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