Sand fills my toes:
Stiffening, drying, cracking
As i walk closer, further and gentler towards the sea:
Which freezes my skin, bones and flesh.
Walking down, just a quick stroll, SHARP objects.
Feet not blistered but cut from without
Blood dripping, brown sticking.
Sand fills my toes, inside this time, hiding in the cracks.
Yet my feet still want to go on.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoetryPoetry by James Matthews includes all his best poems plus special previews of his new works