Today I went hunting on the beach.
The tide brings me things that have been out of reach.
The ocean sometimes is like a lover,
The things it holds we want to discover.
As I pick up the things I want to keep,
The waves quietly and slowly start to creep.
Taking back the things I didn’t see,
I question tomorrow’s hunt on the beach.
Will they be old or will they be new,
Maybe lavender or perhaps blue,
Will it be pottery or maybe sea glass?
These are the questions that I ask.
Some of the things are from times in the past,
Things made of wood, metal, clay and glass.
I wonder what stories they try to keep hidden,
Through markings and trademarks their history’s given.
One of my favorite things to do,
Is to make out of old things, something new.