Grit : Beach therapy

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One more frustration to make me grit my teeth

Talking to people who don’t understand, is never easy

My shoulders are tense and I want to scream

I throw my hands in the air and chuck the worries away

The beach is where I go to plan my escape

The gritty sand massages my feet

The crisp salty air is hard to beat

I lay on the sand and listen to the waves crash

They transport me to a place where there is nothing but bliss

Just like that the tension is gone

Copyright Tachira Wiltshire  

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