As long as I can still write and drum…

As long as I can still write and drum…

Too many pebbles

With too little sand

A wayward path

Full of jagged blades

Cutting to the quick

Dead set against a raw wind

The grit and dirt

Washed away

By the fast flow

Of an endless tide

Stripped bare

Left without purchase

In a strange land

A moonscape

But for the clouds

The movement of air

The counter-balance

Dislodged by diffidence

The modesty of reserve

The weakness of flesh

Bent against

The ravage of time

The bite of a cold sea

Tearing at the corners

Smoothing out the wrinkles

As indifferent waterways

Flood the defences

Salt the earth

And steal me away.