The Docks

Inhaling the fresh air
Breathing the sea breeze
Gazing into the vast horizon past the Golden Gate

The oxygen flowing in one's blood
The birds tweeting in the trees
The smell of railroad tracks and anise in the air
The old train depot to one's side and
The old docks up ahead
with proud and rich histories

Exhaling the air, the ailments flow with it
Feeling fine, and breathing with the wind.

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