poetry, writing

Driftwood

What was full of life, drifting, lost to the sea,

Now lodges on white sandy shores.

Rocked by waves, bleached by sun,

hollowed by age and weather.

The heron perches,

watching the waters near,

a perfect place to spy

to find its next dinner.

The crabs and sealife make their home,

A breakwater to catch seashells forms.

A treasure trove of life can now be found.

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