Time dances endlessly
amidst the grains of our mind.
little recesses where they sink down
to be lost: the shipwrecks
never uncovered, never seen
again, but also the beaches where waves
frequent: lovely caresses
that pull back but always return
and are never far out at sea.
The sand is soaked and clumped,
sparse and dry, swept astray
by gusts of wind or neatly padded
into a sandcastle shape.
Time is the wave that crushes that shape,
the spray that soaks us by surprise,
that crab that bites down us unaware,
the wind that whistles: loud or silent
but ever present, in our year.
OctPoWriMo 2016, prompts from Poets on the Page.
Prompt #31: eternal