how many men before me stood
here on this frothing shore
weary sailors, intrepid pirates
black rogues of legends yore
perhaps a young lover once declared
his heartache on this sand
while another escaped a ruinous romance
by stepping forth on this land
how many drunks avowed their ties
here at this fortuitous spot
their eyes wet, their voice a roar
like a whale in a harpoon caught
maybe once a conqueror gazed
here at the unending seas
smelt his triumph, inhaled their shame
and went giddy at the knees
who knows if a waif found hope
by wishing here upon a wave
while another plunged into deathly gloom
with nothing left to save
and lo, I grasp, as I stand here now
with my hands thrown heroic wide
the sands smile in knowing thrall –
you’ll be forgotten with the tide.
