beachcomber

Silent
I walk the shores of my waking
And spend quiet hours
Gathering bits and pieces of once beautiful things
That broke against my barriers in the moonlight

The rock that shattered
And the salt that polished
Have left only fragments
Glittering remains of great worlds and deeds
Ages old

I scoop them up
And spread them on the mantel
Where I hope they will remain
Until I return to them

On my next vacation

Some are lost but a few wait gathering dust
I blow them off and sneeze and sigh
Over my inability to understand what once they were

I carry them to a more scenic setting
With the hope of stirring memories of these
Now meaningless emotions
Their intensity fades under the brilliant scrutiny of the sun
And I know only that though their moment has passed
Still they remain

I pluck a silver strand from my temple
And string them together
The necklace with which I adorn myself
Is heavy