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About This Poem
Beaches can speak,much more than love stories
Beaches can speak-much more than love stories.
On that sandy shore, three of them sit,
One,a girl of five perhaps
Another too a skimpy lass
Of three or four or even less
And then a baby
A boy of two maybe.
All eyes beady black.
Hair spriggy and dark
Bony limbs sun dried, alack
Brittle heels and palms all with crack
Parched and parted lips
Chant some unknown bliss.
Tides neap and spring
Lull in them a grim
Stab that hunger brings.
To strangers they cringe
each one with hollow rib
On a lovely beach they sit and crib.
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