A Child At Heart

He walks the shore and gathers drift wood for a creaky beach hut shelter Builds a future and modest abode pegs his aspirations and dreams into the sand Crusted planks weave an intricate roof over content surrender and anchor The composite walls thin enough to break free from conventional hardship Intricate sea shells and luminous star fish dangle from a crooked leaky ceiling ‘Ever’ lies in the moment as the moon turns tides flooding time’s impermanence ‘Nowhere’ found its home in the ‘now when’ as Chronos and Kairos float by His beard is wind-blown and the long hair matted nourished from tear drops Where the salt has arrested the Self to become penultimate freedom in passing Some think he is an outcast but inside the mould casts quest’s independence Free of greed and destruction he feeds on passion love reflection and breeze He does not know where he will be when winter frost covers the shore Maybe the ocean will have taken him into another chapter of his humble life Tim does not fancy a homeless abode nor mere existence in a nursing home Somewhere new waters might bring him a crutch or a float to survive All he knows is that if seagulls gather to pick his eyes heart and grey matter A colourful life with meaning and soul will have fed breaths of knowledge His angle on life would have conquered unworthy battles without mortal wars He lives for the day and the day lives for him untainted by greed and dishonesty No skeletons in the wardrobe or cupboard for he owns only one robe and one cup Every so often some kids listen to his story at the threshold of his hovel that is if So-called adults will allow their offspring to come near to his unworldly world Little do they know that his tales may bear fruit and open a page for their path Their parents would want them to be lawyers or doctors carpenters or priests But an anecdote here or there from the poet’s soul might help them to survive 14th June 2019