Driftwood

Gnarled, sitting lonely at the edge of the beach,
perhaps the old man has nothing left to teach
as we sit and re-hear old stories of how he arrived.
We’ve heard often how he survived
the struggling of the sea
and how, hands knotted, knuckles kneading the sand
he claimed this spot,
living free.
But now he’s unsettled, loose and
with sudden farewell
as the sea with a final unprecedented swell
reclaims our familiar host,
and takes him distant to another coast.

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Author: George McDermid

I scratch out poems, and the odd little tale. Mostly for my own amusement.

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