I’m walking on life’s beach
finding my way,
threading through shingle, pain underfoot;
sharp stones and crushed cuttle-fish bones.
Treading on sand now, grains between toes
washed by the surf warmed in the shallows.
I’m walking on life’s beach where bane and balm mingle;
happiness and sorrow, the sand and the shingle
brought to its shores on high tides and low;
random as rough seas today or tomorrow …
I’m treading that fine line between hope and despair;
I think it’s called living: I’m breathing sea air… .