Looking down at empty pale feet
Pure crystal water
Kissing the gaunt quivering toes
Like tiny nipping lips
An intoxicating dewy tickle
Replenishes the ulcerated legs
Thin iced glass brushes the face
Coating it in a soft chilled frost
Salty needles pinch the eyes
Making vision blurry yet refreshed
To blink would be a miss
A loss of excessive sight
An immense beauty gone
A crawling land of beryl
A saturated endless terrene
An ocean
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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