Mosaic

The whole world washes up here.

Everything, from the Romans up.

Heaven only knows who came before.

Drifting in with the tide, or spinning downriver.

Mingling, stirring the melting pot.

Beachcomb: hold a palatte within your palm

Crafted from earth, spun briefly then returned.

To drift, lovingly enrobed by shifting sands.

 

© Tom Tide 2016

 

 

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