The Beach 

It rolls in,

And it brings with it all manner of worlds and other fleeting things;

a memory,

a promise,

a contract so old it’s letters bind my bone to my soul, and it strains.

The smile that opened the way

The silent workings of words that would mould the bridge, hold the bridge – till it broke.

Shambling as light and life and hope slip through impotent fingers.

Scrambling to put the beginning and end together, while the middle rolls madly ’round and around my head.

The sun goes down on a beach washed clean,

Leaving me,

Alone;

cloaked in memory.

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Published by

James

Easing into my mid 30's, writing just crept up on me. I had to put something out there - no matter what. So here we are! I live in Canberra, Australia and work in statistical IT systems development and support and am a proud father of two

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