There is solace in nostalgia,
its softened edges and sepia tones.
Waves of time having
made sea glass of the shards
that once made us bleed.
We seep back into the sands,
from whence we crawled,
and drift out, away from the 
world as we chase the setting sun.
Catching only its reflection
in night’s cold mirror
that shows us the sun rises
behind us in original splendor,
beckoning second chances
again and again.
M. Zane McClellan
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