A life held together with regret is a kind of net <br />cast backwards through time. <br /> <br />It drags forth for perusal the flotsam <br />and the jetsam of the years. <br /> <br />There, among the old boots, the bike frames <br />and the plastic bags are one's hopes, <br /> <br />one's dreams, one's loves.I lug them <br />to a corner of the 'beach'. <br /> <br />I have my prority pile as I sort through <br />the poignant catch, most of it is what it appears <br /> <br />to be, rubbish jettisoned from the cruise <br />ship of life. <br /> <br />But with Poetry as the 'beachcomber' <br />something may be salvaged from detritus.<br /><br />Neil Crawford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/beachcombing-4/
