The Reprieve Poem by Shikha Gupta

The Reprieve



Toes in wet sand: wait...
Wait; anticipate the wave
Recedes. Toes make shapes.

Wave falls at feet: plays...
Wipes shapes, recedes, stays. The cold =
The warmth of winter.

I write of the sea.
It's just a way to not say
How comes my reprieve.

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