Pollen

There's nothing quite like

an exquisite sense of loss,

A wonderful reminder

you are still alive.

- End Poem.

In time I hope to see
the shaded sands of all the world.
I'll steal a little of each kind,
all potential pearls.

Oh, the magic I will make,
with those tiny rocks,
They'll be such great communicates
I'll have no need to talk.

The sand will be my castle,
until I wash away.
Bits of me to carry,
bottled messages astray.

Drift into the sunset
and dark that knows no moon,
Drift without regret
'til I find I start to soon.
Pray for western winds
Pray to see the shore
Pray to drift alone again
Pray to drift no more.

Home.