Poem number five in my Poem-A-Day-For-A-Week-Or-So series. Snow outside, test cricket on the TV, beer in the cupboard. That’s my day sorted, then.
The sea sighs for you tonight.
It sucks at the shingle
And smears your footprints
Like a wet thumb rubbed across writing.
Where once you walked and left your
Prints, it gently wipes the land clean.
Lovingly it lays its cheek to the ground
And nuzzles your memory.
We are more than specks
In the infinity of time and space
Yet somehow we need to
Make sense of our lives.
But so does the wind and the rain.
More so, in fact, since in the end
Mountains are levelled
And the wind and rain remain.
In the end the passage of many feet
May be more durable than
Dwellings of stone.