White Beach Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

White beach

"I, the rock, the stone…"
heard the wind; heard breeze
"…brush you; break gas
as dandelions in your hand."

And the talk went on with,
with the cold, rain, snow
in same way; on mountain.

At white beach sand conversed
with the sun, with the waves:
"Surrender! Let me rest…"

And cried under feet of a child:
"Once I was a stone…had head up,
inexpert, unaware, I was young…"

Talks went on; and went on
on both sides
young keeping the head up
old humbled and fallen by the age:
"I know now…know little."