The Beach

There’s a paper bag of crushed strawberries

Lying next to me at the beach;

On the vast stretch of sand there is nobody;

I look up at the sky; the sky looks down on me;


It feels like lifetimes ago boys were playing here:

They were playing ball, and saw me;

The bag of strawberries slid out my trembling hands

And bled red under fast-running feet;


I could close my eyes, I could lock my heart,

But the rest fell and drowned in the sea;

From under the rolling waves I could hear the wind

And feel sunbeams burn marks into my skin;


When the storm had passed, I rose from the sand,

Picked my strawberries, washed my slow feet;

Yet, I never could leave that empty beach;

Until I die the sky will look down on me

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