Old Father Time



Old Father time combs the beach again,

Green wellies, jumper oh so cosy.

The waves lap in and out,

His plodding  footprints sink into the sands of time,

To be washed away again.

As if he never was.

The clouds rush across the blank sky,

Colours too fast to pause for breath,

And his aged bones feel cold as the water,

Grabbled as a crab claw.

But his mind feels free and longing,

It can run barefoot across the beach,

And giggle at a sea anemone,

Or a greedy seagull.

He digs eternally for treasures in the rock pools of ages,

A cracked-pot figment shows a lady painted,

Long ago.

His mind sees patterns as the sands talk day to day,

The sands of time say again

‘time is like a pea’

Round and beautiful, no beginning, no end,

then shrivelled, leaving only the memory

Of fresh bright green.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s