Hive Ave Fall2024 - Flipbook - Page 6
Poetry
Hive Avenue Literary Journal
Beachside
Mae Fraser
hands rough like storm-made waves
enveloping mine in yours
your voice carrying over shorelines
covering everything in your sea spray laugh
it’s hard not to think of blue tides
white froth green grass warm hands
golden sun rays spilling onto our faces
as we’re standing at the end of the world
rocky coastline and clouds settling in on the horizon
right before the murky dusk says bon voyage to the day
and we get in the car,
shrouded in the gift of this budding love,
taking the ocean with us
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