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In Memory of Alexander Lowenstein by Janice Cunningham
Beachgrass, as if frozen, stands still
and lethargic waves crash
slowly...
Alex, I think they miss you - they
whisper
your name - but somehow I know
you're always with them forever.
___________________________
You were always the sunshine...
but the sun hasn't set for you, Alex
my friend -
it has only risen
on another
beach.
