Washing machine

Structures of bone
Crash down
As debris is washed up
On the shore

Beads glisten in the sun
As old ornaments from days gone by
Resurface pulverised
Shining like shells

The washing cycle of the ocean
Spins endlessly into the night
A turbulent machine
Powered by the moon

Sucking all matter in
Spitting it out
Transformed, deformed
Shape shifted
Through a storm

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