Uncle Bob's Words

Words, poetry, stuff like that

Another Odd One

You’ll chase me down to the beach and we’ll run through the dunes

And then fall, tired and out of breath but smiling, onto the warm sand.

Like that would happen.

I don’t like the beach and no one’s ever thought of chasing me there.

I lean, when I do, towards woods. For a little while.

Until it’s time to eat.

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