Shells in the sand

We pass on…..
All the stale old images
and tawdry poems.
Discarded, like yesterday’s
fish and chip paper.
And all that is left,
in this wilderness.
Are arguments
on street corners.
With nothing subtle
about them.

But I have known,
what it is
to be human again.
A body’s last trauma.
That became love,
and dazzling to the eye.
No more surface,
only me and you.
Within the old,
but wildflowers
sweetening a field.
Enough, to live a life –
all over again.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s