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
A..J. Ponder
