I stroll ‘long sandy shore, now free, unbound,
With thought of what is hidden ‘neath this cloak,
Of sand: some treasure left but never found?
Or buried fossils beg release from yoke?

Renewed, now naked save their bright red tips
My shoe freed toes squish sun soaked grains of glass.
They walk on deeds no longer spoke from lips
Of those now passed, regardless of their class.

I rest on rock to peer across the sea
And ponder shores from whence I came. Will those
Who stroll when I’m no more, remember me?
Or my deeds, too, soon doomed beneath red toes?

From rock must move I now to make my mark;
For master of this journey I embark.

copyright©Thomas Powers, 2007

08/09/2007

Posted on 06/09/2008
Copyright © 2025 Thomas Powers