Small boy, kneeling, gaze fixed
amongst the rocks, crystal clear
flashes its glimpse of life, appears,
then gone, uncertain, until another
braves the tranquillity, why?
Surely the boredom of sand and rock
a better bet than a dart, for what?
a taste of the other side, which
sooner or later, will work its way round
stared for hours watching
life follow its course, haphazard
cover to cover until one by one
their dances done, walks away
Yet, no memory complete without trophies
to treasure, justify each and every,
of time’s allocations, hands
that just can’t resist
what the eyes choose, attraction,
the easy option, a shell, ornate
bright colours to gather dust and fade
until one day, finally recalled
, thrown away, her story of life
forgotten, wrapped in plastic,
a black eternity, entombed
the man, weathered, walks the beach
gaze fixed amongst the waves, lapping
the froth and foam around his feet, bare
looks briefly at the rocks,
their magic, long gone,
as picks the pebble, washed, worn
like the wish, and throws
eyes closed, back to the sea
Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 11:20 AM UTC
Small boy, kneeling, gaze fixed
amongst the rocks, crystal clear
flashes its glimpse of life, appears,
then gone, uncertain, until another
braves the tranquillity, why?
Surely the boredom of sand and rock
a better bet than a dart, for what?
a taste of the other side, which
sooner or later, will work its way round
stared for hours watching
life follow its course, haphazard
cover to cover until one by one
their dances done, walks away
Yet, no memory complete without trophies
to treasure, justify each and every,
of time’s allocations, hands
that just can’t resist
what the eyes choose, attraction,
the easy option, a shell, ornate
bright colours to gather dust and fade
until one day, finally recalled
, thrown away, her story of life
forgotten, wrapped in plastic,
a black eternity, entombed
the man, weathered, walks the beach
gaze fixed amongst the waves, lapping
the froth and foam around his feet, bare
looks briefly at the rocks,
their magic, long gone,
as picks the pebble, washed, worn
like the wish, and throws
eyes closed, back to the sea
When we are young we are often fascinated by the smallest of details and will often feel that we have to have some memento, selfie etc, of every occasion, almost to validate it, even though we very rarely revisit these memories, often throwing them away later without a thought.