On Thursday night I waded into a sea of pink
Not caring what anyone else would think
Knowing that people in the drink
Do more than wear the color pink
They swim upstream even as all seems lost,
As hopes and dreams are dashed and tossed.
They fight this fight, and will until it is won.
They swim and swim until it is swum.
As friends, family and strangers falter, flail and sometimes drown
The pink tides raise them higher, floating over rocky ground.
As Friday morning came around,
This sea of pink was more profound,
Winding its way from solid stone,
20 long miles until it hits home.
The sea of pink surges with a tide,
Held within every pink shade, in every pink stride.
Saturday morning dawned anew
This sea of pink took on a deeper hue,
Crashing waves 20 miles further upon the beach.
By nightfall children play within its reach.
The sea of pink closed this night,
Dancing its dance under pale pink light.
Sunday begins as tent city goes down.
The sea of pink starts moving the crowd.
Tales are regaled of what we have done:
20 more miles, the pain, the trouble and fun,
Of the fight we just fought and all it will do,
The sea of pink describes its every hue.
Wading in swimming along with the crowd,
Walking 60 miles over unsure ground,
I feel what I have done; I am so proud.
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