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