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The Song of the Beach
Elise, Age 9, Vancouver, BC

The waves lap at the shore,
The people splash in the waves,
The ocean seems alive.

The seagulls are crying overhead,
Fighting over a piece of fish,
That one caught from the sea of blue.

The small children say they donít want to go home,
And the mothers say they must,
They wonít put on sunscreen,
Or wash their feet under the tap.

It is getting late,
Near the concession,
The birds dive in for French fries,
The tide rises,
And people begin to go home.

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