Sea Glass

Our pockets are filled with precious things saved                                                                From obscurity, new treasured jewels.                                                                                    Each day we play the same games, with the same rules.                                                   Clear and understood. Only the brave                                                                                    Stay another second to feel a laughing wave                                                                           Spill salty cold, soaking the feet unmoved.

I think all the handfuls of sea glass are lost                                                                              In some place called ‘My Younger Years’ where                                                                     Idle shoes are found in a town miles away.                                                                             Red bottle in my hand, and I toss                                                                                                 It further than I could dream to swim,

and wish I had stayed.