On The Shore

One child on the shore
With a stick on his hands
Writes on the sands
Some drawings

Playful
A wave comes and slides
On the shore
The drawings are gone

And a new slate is given
By the water that runs
That advances to him
And later surrenders to itself

Another young man
Draws a heart on the sand
Swearing a love eternal
All encompassing

A wave slides forth
And comes back pulling towards itself
A new slate is made again

The old man comes later
Writing his life story with a cane
The same wave comes again
Slides forth and pulls itself

An empty slate
Sand so smooth and blank and plain
Gleaming anew
To the blue skies

Everything looks playful,
Indeed. The sameness and the
Constant repetition. The cycle.
The monotony of life.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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