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A Quiet Place in Britain’s Most Southerly Point

There is a place I love,
Where one cannot believe their luck,
Right at the edge of the storm,
It borders a tipping point,
Above, the bluest sky yields across the yonder,
Below, aqua, salt, ice and air coalesce and bounce off the shore,
Its face shines like sunbeams,
And it always looks so happy that
One cannot help but smile,
Like a gentle friend who comes to visit,
Its softness peels the grime away,
Giving one the quiet they need,
As its balance ebbs and flows,
Each day begins with Ann’s pasties,
And ends with darkness
Beside the fresh Atlantic Ocean,
That one begins to remember,
What life is really about,
And that it doesn’t have to be hard.

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