Driftwood

 

Gently rolling on the ocean foam,

With skies above

And sharks below,

I ramble round the seven seas to nowhere.

 

I twist in the current and churn with the waves,

Tempests crash,

Hurricanes pass,

The sunny days are welcome.

 

The peace and cold and wetness told,

And creatures use my shade as home;

For I am shelter where hurt fish cry,

A lushes shade in this vastness supply.

 

But now I pose, in a manmade shade

In an earthwork dug from spades;

As I reached a shore, was grabbed and adorned,

And in a landscape garden now I lay.