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Lake Swin

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Pristine pool … it is not.
I slowly creep closer.
Seaweed floats on the beach’s edge.

The sand is mush and slim
Between my toes

The water is murky brown,
I stare at it,
Hesitation mixed with repugnance.

Four years of pure joy rush past me
Splashing with no inhibitions
Calling my name

I follow

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