In Sopchoppy sand
Johnclarestokes
Pulling aside to abide
If for a fleeting moment
Peeling back the present
Seek me where I hide.
Pulling in to mend
The sweet balm of remind
Pour it o’er one more time
The old scrapes are yet open.
Pulling up to reconstruct
Just how it all once began
Down to the boy in the sand
Refusing for supper to run up.
In the sand of Sopchoppy I sit
In the sand of Sopchoppy I remember it.
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