Expectations: <br />sand through fingers. <br />Nothing lingers except, perhaps, the dross. <br />A pattern takes shape, <br />carved by waves upon a grey shore- <br />a door, <br />opening into a hypothetical tomorrow. <br />An illusion? <br />No! <br />Wishes make it real, <br />until sealed by a vagary of the wind. <br />Then? <br />Confusion, and sorrow. <br />Vanity! <br />Alienation! <br />Followed by the realization: <br />sand between our toes.<br /><br />metamorphhh (aka jim crawford)<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/life-s-a-beach/
