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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2174402
by Dee C
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Other · #2174402
A note upon the future, not a probable, likely, or possible future ; a certainty.

Briefly, my feet compress the sand
I feel it grind beneath me
Briefly, dry scald of wind scours my face
Then slips and whips behind me
And all of an instant my steps erase

As sand does polish and abrade
So this sand will finish me
Briefly beautiful, smooth white bones
Open to view, part sand part me
Until a final grinding, then man entirely sand

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2174402