With the coming heatwave I recalled this little ditty wot I writ in a writers workshop. We had to bring in an object and…well, write about it. Someone brought in a tatty old beach bag. Herewith:
Sand.
The bag is crumpled, its usefulness spent,
glittering shards sparkling
t
u
m
b
l
i
n
g
cascade
jewel like through the fingers.
Evoking Cyprus long past;
sunlit beach, languid sea.
Misty wraithlike faces
of dear pals, once
close as kin.
Drift like
sand.
3 Likes
Norma–I like it very much! 