Kilroy Was Here
Kilroy Was Here, etched in sand on the shore
Waves wash over the inscription till it’s seen no more
The sea crashes over castles built by children at play
To commemorate a beautiful day.
It’s my fault, too.
Sand dollars with stars in place of Ceasar’s face
Most are in pieces, but a few managed not to break
Shark teeth that can no longer bite are fun to find
And seagulls shed feathers that can no longer fly
But might look good in a cap to wear with pride
There are corroded pieces of wood, remnants of the tree
Empty pearls float on the surface; others sink unseen
A vagabond rests in peace under the sun taking in heat and rays
A vacationer reads a book beneath an umbrella shading her place
A dead fish, a scallop, bread thrown to birds, remnants of a net, they wash up each day
With rice from a wedding and ashes that had been strewn into the ocean to stay
Shells shining from the sea’s refining on the inside
But unsightly and unidentified on their hide to the outside
Under the sand there is lost treasure to be found
Kilroy Was Here, I remember, but he’s gone now
It’s my fault, too.
The tide at times seems ominously high and at times ominously low
But the shore will always be there I know
And Kilroy was there but is gone and forgotten now
It’s my fault, too.
Copyright © Amy Sell | Year Posted 2018
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