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Until It's Time
by Clara Mae GregoryBuilding sandcastles oceans wash away
Tides roll in only to roll out again
The clarion call of a seagull
Echoes in the wind
Alone and looking out
In need of something he is without
A tin man stands steadfast with rust
His Bibles among the clutter
Collecting the dust
Wistfully he watches as the babies play
Upon the beach
Until it's time for them to go in,
Somehow transformed
Into bodies of burned up, tired old men.
06/20/1976
Author's Note: Just another repost of old work to be archived, probably my oldest that was salvaged from memory, for I lost all my writings and artwork in a flood that destroyed my home in 1999. This was originally written when I was 21.
Posted on 09/20/2009
Copyright © 2026 Clara Mae Gregory
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 06/08/10 at 01:00 PM This poem highlights the importance of life --actually living. It warns of becoming too tied up in religions and philosophy and pay attention to the beauty around you. This is a great poem. |
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