Tuesday, 16 January 2018

mere men: (edit 1)

In the sixties
they belonged to the sea,
each day as the sun broke free
to warm the holiday tents
and steal sleep with brewing heat,
waves beckoned from beyond warming sand
calling the tanned bodies to submerge,
to forget the land and dream
of life in the deep green underneath.

Now in their sixties
they visit the sea at the end of every year
but where once bodies stayed
until maternal voices called them back to upright life
now the water chills too swiftly
and hardly having entered the green
their feet return to the land;
bound above now
seeing the days tumble into years,
the memories of the child,
like mist that rises in the morning
then vanishes when the sun
burns away the dreams of the night
to bring forth each day’s worked for truth.

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