Author Information
Time & Tide
The-tide surges, relentlessly, remorselessly,
Scouring and sapping.
Eroding all trace of her light footed passage,
On the wide empty strands of my memory.
I stand alone in this flood, with the flotsam
Of her loving and her laughing;
The handful of photos, now fading
And the cruel jeering commentaries of the gulls.
Clutched in my hand, a few polished fragments of jetsam,
Which I once managed to snatch from her tide,
Amongst them, the ring, with the ever present sting
And the cold bitterness of the brine.
