We journeyed to the coast,
impoverished souls,
pale faced ghosts,
nonetheless riddled with holes...
The prior year as the milepost,
full of chuckholes,
we arrived diagnosed,
needful of healing tidal shoals...
Missing someone not present most,
who up yonder scrolls,
lost on earth after long sclerosed,
for reparations we undertake pacific patrols...
Suddenly a sunset uplifts our 'til then blithe pneuma unaware,
jarred by geographical repositioning of terra firma and salt air,
thrillingly swiftly making our conscious spirits well aware,
all along missing person has been soulfully in our foursquare.
