Driftwood - Poem by Roger Marshall
Water laps gently round his feet
While a light breeze plays about his ears.
How warm the soft white sand
Must feel under his dark body
That lies basking in the midday sun!
Not far away is a wild display of parasols,
And little boys and girls splash in to fetch
White shells for precariously leaning towers
While mums and dads spread cream or oil
over every inch of burning naked flesh.
But still he lies unstirred
By the carefree laughter of his fellow men,
Even when the sun descends
And the water at his feet is turned to blood,
When the last bathers, clinging to the dying rays,
Pick up their scattered things and head for home,
When blue gives way to black across the bay
Even then his wide-eyed stony gaze
remains transfixed towards the sky,
The still, unnoticed, axis of the spinning world.
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