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The Old Crab

You can see him all the time
During day hours
Shuffling about on the Marina sand,
He is an aged crab
Now grown weak and tired
Unable to dig and hide in the sand.
He does not ask the sea to take him
For he cannot drown;
He does not wait to be picked
By the kite who cannot see him.
Once I did ask him if I could be of help,
I tried,
I could not convince,
He did not understand me.
Thursday, February 25, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: comforting
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4/11/2021 2:18:20 PM # 1.0.0.559