The sea is dyed
with the gold sun provides
...
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At 41 the seagulls called you fool to have missed the kiss. At 78, they might have told me, the last chance to kiss you've missed. I liked the way you brought things up in this piece.
Too sad a poem, nostalgic, hint of regret, pained... I can feel your sadness. Throw your kiss to the seagull and let it fly, homeward to the sky, Let it be delivered, as late as it may be; Happiness has no age, each step today, will take you somewhere tomorrow