Sea Fret.

Shadowy people fade into the distance,
Walking the beach like memories from the past
In the heavy damp of the autumn morning.

They move smoothly through shades of existence,
Ghosts of their former selves spun from the mist,
All colour, all sound, all liveliness leached away into the sand.

The sea fret holds time in its grasp, bringing it’s own reality
Where the dead can walk, secrets are hidden
And all urgency is lost to the fingering, searching fog.

Slowly the sun draws back the gossamer curtain,
The soft grey air evaporates into sparkles of silvery blue
And the people walk into the light.

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