New Year's Day 2

Where should all the days go

If they slip by

as fast as this one?

The sun never shone so lazily

in its bed of blue

watching over

Dunes and sand --

the sun-bleached bones of mountains

accumulated in the hectic tide 

And should all my days

end in a tidal surge

on the briny surf

With seaweed at the ankles

and castles on the beach -

Let those castles be built high

Let them stand before

the endless tide

under the patient sun

Let there be

fantastical turrets

before all is washed away...

And the sun rushes off

to its liaison 

with the other side of the world.

A..J. Ponder