Washed Up
The tide and heavy seas
had washed up a wealth
of treasures to lay at my feet
spread out in a long line
just like the way wares
are displayed on the street
of an outdoor market.
Shells, some polished
to a sheen others just broken
shards of a puzzle never
to be put back together again.
Tresses of weed, float bladders,
a cuttlefish bone and globs
of jellyfish shaped like petrified
tears as if once welled
out of the eyes of a whale.
Then there was a hoard
of man made stuff, plastic cups
and brightly coloured beads
of who knows what, spoons
and bottle tops, matted balls
of red and green twine
and fishing line knitted into
swatches of transparent twill,
a smorgasbord of human
endeavor all laid out in wonder
and ready to kill.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2023
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