Archive for paddling

What Might Have Been

Posted in Mental Health, philosophy, Poetry, writing with tags , , , , on July 20, 2013 by Graeme Cooper

I painted my dreams on slides of glass

And folded them carefully,

In Eastern silk.

I walked West until I walked into the sea.

 

I watched my dreams float away carelessly,

Caught by Atlantic waves,

Washed out silk washed up on sand,

Slides slammed against sharp Solway rocks,

 

 

Smashed to shards like counterfeit diamonds,

Cold, hold, worthless,

Strewn on forlorn foreshore,

To shred the soles of optimistic paddlers.

 

 

(Who rush down to the sand,

At first sign of sunshine.)

 

 

The pieces, which

Were slides, which,

Held dreams, my dreams

 

 

Were gathered reverently then by inquisitive children,

Still believing in their broken beauty.  Eager

To take them home as treasure,

To put them back together,

To see what they become.

 

 

But plans were, too soon, dashed by jaded parents,

And treasure scattered with a heavy heart,

In sandy car park corner forgotten,

Upon fulfilment of ice cream promise.

 

 

So, as darkness fell on an empty beach,

A silk handkerchief was picked up by the rising tide,

And became but silent flotsam,

On the dark and sullen Gulf Stream.

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