Beachcomber

The fortunes of the world are cast here

and I can see the wasted efforts of working man.

Discarded to the welcoming water,

knowing it will sink into grey,

not lie menacing and conspicuous

amongst the turmoil of foam.

To drift upon Neptune’s breath.

Evidence of a careless mind.

Every plastic net and half-barrel,

a polystyrene dream material,

revolutionary in properties,

lie undecaying on the sand,

betraying their short-term thoughts.

And I am here, long-term,

with them.

© Andrew Williams