Counting Backwards P.O.M. September

I’ve started counting backwards To see where I began But if I look too closely I won’t know who I am It seems a contradiction To find and lose myself But somewhere in my past I accumulated wealth Not the wealth of money Or properties galore But things saved in my...

Washed Sand November P.O.M.

Washed Sand Who am I that stain the sand Whose every footprint mark this land For as my breath invites the day In idle thoughts I drift away I gaze behind to see my path As in real time the sea it laps But when at last in full retreat I search to find my footprints...