The Tide

The tide is going out on the bay shrouded in fog. The hills are not visible but covered with a fine white mist obscuring everything except the dampness of this early morning and the cool inviting smell of the bay. The seagulls know that the tide is going out taking with it, everything except the emptiness in my heart and the bitterness of my coffee. The tide goes out everyday and reminds me that while mud is left for a few hours, the tide will return with all things new. Somehow my coffee just isn’t as bitter now.


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