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Anguilla

In cities bent and choked, I dream of clear blue skies.
In dirty smelling streets, I recall days,
The fresh salt smell, Riding the insistent breeze.

I dream of the sea, And a conch shell,
Lone upon the sand, A foot-print, sunk deep,
Sudden washed away, By a tickling wave

–Fabian Fahie, from ‘To my own Private Beach’, (anguillian.com)