Beach Walk© Poem by Roann Mendriq

Last night, I walked upon the beach,
upon a shore of sifted sand;
Pristine, pure, right out of reach
of satan's vile and savage hand.

Today, I could not help but weep,
Dark desolation blurred my sight;
Washed up in the storm tide's sweep,
born of the torment of the night.

Mangled garlands lay in tangles,
in twisted wreaths of dying flowers;
Scores of broken green glass bangles,
stained with wives' dark farewell hours.

From night to day, from joy to sorrow,
God only knows what comes tomorrow.

(A cremetorium on the beach)